Changes Made
by k8ebug
Summary: It begins with a summer and ends with who-knows-what. Severus Snape is a lonely man, and Hermione is breaking the box of perfection.
1. Chapter One

A/N: I don't own the characters or Hogwarts. If I did, I wouldn't be worrying about how I'm going to pay for college! But keep your fingers off the plot, please. This happens to be a bit of a new thing…I haven't really investigated the whole Severus/Hermione bit before. As they are sort of main characters, I'm a bit concerned as to how I'll warp my own perception of them by the time the next book makes it into my hands...not to mention yours, my winsome reader. At any rate, here goes…  
  
**Changes Made  
  
Chapter One**  
  
Severus Snape sat on a thinly upholstered sofa with his cloak wrapped tightly around himself. His chambers were surprisingly warm and dry considering the dank, clammy chill of the surrounding dungeons. Torches lit most of the room, yet shadows lingered in corners and lurked under furniture. Snape's rooms were clean, yet unfeelingly so. There was little decoration aside from the swirling pattern incised into the dark, glossy bookcase and the single rug on the floor, woven in the pattern of a serpent.   
  
The other furniture in Snape's rooms was of the same glossy wood as the bookcase. The solitary table and chair gleamed in the flickering torchlight. On the table, a clear globe balanced gracefully on a delicate silver stand. Across the room, the fireplace was well kempt and dark. Beyond that, a heavy door stood ajar, leading to his prison-like bedroom. The bed was covered only with a thin sheet and blanket. Next to it, a bedside cabinet stood holding only a candlestick. Snape's bedroom was devoid of any personal possessions, save for the trunk half-hidden in shadow beneath the bed.  
  
On the sofa, Snape seemed to be focused somewhere beyond the wall across the room, lost in thought. Pleasant or unpleasant, it was hard to tell; no emotion displayed on his closed face. Inside his head, a whirling turmoil of feeling and contemplation spun dizzyingly.   
  
Finally summer. No students worried about nothing more than a passing grade, no quaking first years tripping over themselves when he billowed past, no exploding cauldrons or spilled ingredients, and no Potter, reminding him of everything he hated about himself and his past. Potter.   
  
And then, Black. Dead. Snape felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Dead in part because he, Snape, had allowed his emotions to over power reason and logic. Black, a man brave, yes, and strong, who had died in a fight to save that godson of his, spawn of that cocky bastard James.   
  
James Potter, handsome and talented and as cruel as any boy Snape had ever known. The torment he had put Snape through was nearly unbelievable! Using the art of magic to cause horrible embarrassment. Calling names, humiliating him in front of the only person at Hogwarts he had cared at all for. Lily Evans.  
  
Lily. She had always stood up for him. She had always been furious at the way that James arrogantly treated others, as if they were merely dust at his precious feet. He and the other so-called "Marauders." Lupin, standing silent, never condoning, yet never making any move to stop his friends from pursuing their spiteful entertainment. Pettigrew, the quivering, traitorous follower. Worshipping the ground the others walked on because he was too weak to find his own way. And Black, encouraging his best friend to pitilessly scar a classmate. Not physically of course, but memories remain much longer than flesh ever could.   
  
Lily. Even after everything that insufferable prat had done, James Potter had still won her heart and hand. It made Snape want to hit something. And of course there was Harry, a living, breathing reminder of those memories. And now, the boy knew. That nosy git had flung himself headfirst where he had no business being. Dumbledore's Penseive had one flaw, and that was that any one waltzing past who took the fancy to poke about would find themselves watching another's personal experiences. So Harry had witnessed a few the worst Snape could remember. From school first, and then those memories of home, if you could call it that. His parents, fighting, his father, drunk. Sitting alone locked in his room, no hope of anything better. And Harry knew.

................................................................................................................................................

Hermione Granger stared blankly at the partially unrolled parchment before her. Approximately one-third of it was covered with precise, no-nonsense script - and essay on doxies. For not the first time since the summer holidays had begun, Hermione pushed herself away from her homework and rose to gaze out the window at the trim, suburban street. A row of perfect white houses with perfect front gardens occupied by men and women with their perfect BMWs lined the street. In the mornings one could see their perfect children dressed perfectly to attend their perfect private schools with their perfectly overpriced tuitions. Hermione sighed and looked back into her own room.   
  
The bed, perfectly made without the merest hint of a wrinkle. The walls, perfectly white. A shelf on the wall held a collection of porcelain dolls, with their perfectly dusted rosebud smiles. A perfectly polished birdcage stood in a corner, currently empty. Griselda, a gift from Hermione's parents was delivering a message to Harry. Crookshanks was nowhere to be found, having disappeared into the garden directly after breakfast. Hermione looked down at her perfectly organised desk and her half-completed homework. A sudden urge to rebel washed through her like a crashing wave. An urge to break the perfect box she'd been kept in for so long. And no more confounded homework! She blinked. That would be considered a highly un-Hermione-like thought.  
  
She knew how others thought of her. Besides Ron and Harry, and perhaps Hagrid, no one knew how much different she was from the face she held during classes. And they didn't know all of it, even! Hermione had seen that the night of the Yule ball in fourth year when she had deviated from the norm and gone wearing something other than school robes. Her parents expected her to receive perfect marks in everything, and so she did. Her studying habits were perfect. It had been ingrained into her mind since the time she was old enough to understand that timeliness, cleanliness, intellect, and organisation were to be the most important things in her life. To please her parents, these were what Hermione had built her life around.  
  
When she had received her owl on her eleventh birthday, her father had been much less than thrilled. A witch for a daughter didn't fit his perfect picture of the perfect family. How would this be explained? Fortunately, her mother had seen this slightly differently and managed to talk him into thinking that this would only enhance the perfection of their lives. Their daughter would be receiving a highly respectable and valuable education, although admittedly different. She would still be studying, just not the normal array of math and science they were used to. Reluctantly, they had ventured into Diagon Alley with the Weasleys, an experience that while certainly not their favourite had not been entirely disagreeable. And so, Hermione had been able to remain their perfect daughter.  
  
Hermione was alone in the house. Her parents were at their dental practice as they were every day except Sunday, when the office was closed. For the most part, they had little to do with her everyday life as she wasn't home most of the year and had always been a most responsible girl. The worst she had ever done was left a pot of beans boil over one evening while she had her nose buried in an informative book regarding Goblin riots. It was time for a bit of change, Hermione decided. But how to go about it? 


	2. Chapter Two

**Changes Made  
  
Chapter Two**  
  
Snape sat silently eating his breakfast at the lone table in his quarters. He had chosen to "order in" once more as he did when there were no students in the castle. Dumbledore preferred the teachers to eat together with the rest of the castle if it was possible, and while Snape did not enjoy this practice, he did not wish to disappoint Dumbledore in any way. During holidays, however, and on weekends, Snape took his meals alone.   
  
He finished his meal and stacked the dishes neatly before the fireplace. House elves would presently be whisking in to cart off anything unnecessary from the room. Only they had access to Snape's rooms by any means but the actual door; everywhere but the kitchens were blocked with charms. A sort of paranoia – not quite as acute as Mad-Eye Moody's, perhaps, but still rather healthy – seemed to cultivate a great many extra protections on Snape's surroundings.  
  
After tugging his heavy edition of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi from the giant shelf, Snape eased onto his sofa and began to read. For what seemed like the fiftieth time since the beginning of the summer, Snape felt he couldn't concentrate and looked round his lifeless room. With an irritated sort of noise, Snape pulled his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and jabbed it at the globe on the table across the room. At once a sparkling, pulsating light began to form inside of it and Vivaldi's _Gloria_ began to sound from that side of the room.  
  
"Too loud," Snape growled and jabbed in that direction with his wand again. Immediately, the supple strings of Messne filled the air. Snape leaned back and closed his eyes. If only that rolling and fluttering in his stomach would disappear, everything would be fine. After a moment or two of this quiet meditation, the Potions Master returned to his reading. It took only a few moments of reading before Snape decided that this was a waste of time. He already knew every word that Phydilla Spore had written about Asphodel and probably about the other 999 herbs and fungi listed in the book. He turned to a random page and began to read again.  
  
_ Rosmarinus officinalis  
  
Rosemary  
  
This aromatic herb is commonly found in warm areas with mild seasons and a good amount of rain. Native to the Mediterranean coast, it grows well wild or in gardens, and may be grown potted indoors. Rosemary leaves are slender, green and leathery, and are found growing very close to the stem. Flowers of this plant are pale blue, and occasionally white or pale pink, and tend to be small.  
  
In potions one may use the leaves, oil, or wood. Rosemary has long been a symbol of virtue, fidelity, purity, youth, and vitality, and may be used in potions regarding these traits. The leaves are used widely in cooking, useful as a flavouring and an antioxidant. One may steep the leaves in boiling water for a healthful tea or antiseptic mouthwash, add leaves to bathwater as a cleansing agent, and a tincture of Rosemary washed through the hair once a week will rid it of excess oil and dirt.   
  
Essential oil may be extracted from the plant with the method described on page 26. Oil is used for anointing during particular ceremonies such as weddings and funerals. It may also be used as an insect repellent, but the oil should not be taken internally. The journals of several witches and wizards across England recommend boxes of Rosemary wood smelled once a day as an anti-ageing element, and rosemary leaves crushed and held under the tongue for nervous disorders. Ointments made with Rosemary are useful for sore joints and muscles, and may be used to soothe colicky infants.   
  
Basic Uses: Tonic; diuretic; aromatic; stomachic; carminative; antispasmodic; cholagogue; antiseptic; emmenagogue  
  
One case in Rottingdale reported an eight-foot tree of Rosemary that had turned a bright red in colour and began to snatch at passers-by. Contact with this particular tree made the traveller grow horns that could only be removed with holy water.  
_  
A whooshing noise at the fireplace interrupted Snape's reading. He looked up as a chubby house elf stepped from the ashes quite as if he had been there all the time. He produced a parchment envelope from his pillow-case-like garment and with an expression of apprehension, inched towards Professor Snape, who watched without interest. The elf flinched as Snape held out his hand for the letter, but handed it over all the same. As soon as Snape had the letter in his hand, the elf shot back into the fireplace, snatching up the dishes as he went. With a small 'pop', the elf disappeared, leaving the fireplace spotless.   
  
Snape opened the envelope carefully and began to read the message inside. His eyes narrowed and he crumpled the latter in his fist. With out a thought for his reading or the music still emanating from the globe on the table, Snape stood and swept from his quarters to the chilly dungeons.

..............................................................................................................................................

Hermione waved goodbye as her parents pulled out of the driveway and headed to their office. As soon as they were out of sight, she ducked back inside and hurried up to her bedroom.   
  
The day before, Hermione had counted up her rainy day savings and headed to the hardware store. Very carefully, she had selected two colours of paint, two kinds of brushes, painting trays and a drop cloth and carted it all home. A tense moment occurred when her mother, checking on Hermione before bed time, had gone to hang something up in the closet, nearly discovering the supplies hidden there.   
  
Hermione checked her watch. She had just over seven hours before her parents were due to arrive home. If she worked quickly, she'd be finished before they even came home! She moved her furniture carefully to the centre of her room and covered it with the heavy white cloth she'd bought. A stepladder from the basement allowed her to remove the shelf carefully from the wall and tuck it beneath the cloth as well. Hermione painstakingly prepared her room for its new makeover, taping edges and removing the outlet covers and light switch plates.  
  
Finally she stood back and took a deep breath. Letting that out, she lined the paint cans up next to the wall and levered the lid off of the first one. She poured a pool of paint into one of the trays, dipped the brush in and ceremoniously delivered the first rich strip of crimson to the wall.

............

A few hours later, Hermione examined her handiwork. The walls were now quite covered in rich, deep red paint. The trimming was done all in a smooth golden yellow, as was the shelf that had held her old dolls. By now the windows had been opened to let the smell of paint diffuse a bit before the return of Hermione's parents. Feeling rather chuffed with her work, Hermione ventured downstairs for a glass of water and a break.  
  
She headed for the back garden where sunlight warmed the grass and flowering foliage her mother had planted. The garden was surrounded by a small, masoned fence, just high enough to sit comfortably upon. Glass in hand, Hermione sat and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of earth and growing things. Presently she heard a rustle in the bushes behind her and turned her head to see a bowlegged orange tomcat sidling up beside her. He sat back and examined the wall for a moment before gracing it with his presence, purring and allowing Hermione to pet him.  
  
"Have you a had a good time, Crookshanks?" Hermione asked, setting her glass down. She set to work stroking his fur, picking bits of leaves out of it. "What have you been rolling in, you silly thing?" After a few minutes, she checked her watch. "I ought to get all that paint stuff put away. Do you want to come help?" Crookshanks just eyed her as she stood. Soon enough however, he followed her indoors and raced up the stairs ahead of her. When Hermione opened the door, Crookshanks stepped backwards as if slightly stunned by the change in scenery. He looked up with her and cocked his head.  
  
"No, mum and dad don't know about this yet. Do you approve?" Crookshanks stepped gingerly inside the room and paced the perimeter, sniffing every now and then. When he reached the doorway again he rubbed against Hermione's ankles, purring. "I suppose that's a yes," she laughed, and set about cleaning up the painting supplies.

............

That night at dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Granger chatted cheerily about the day.  
  
"Little Robbie Fisher came in for his braces this afternoon, dear. He was so cute! Didn't want to let your father in with his tools. He was quite put out when his mother wouldn't let him get multi-coloured brackets in," Mrs. Granger laughed.   
  
"And if you ever frequent an orthodontist other than us, Hermione, don't et anything but breath mints for an hour beforehand. We had on woman come in today whose breath smelled most terribly of onions and tuna fish. I can't imagine how she managed to eat something like that. It was awful," Mr. Granger complained.   
  
"Did you have a good day, dear?" Mrs. Granger inquired. "Finish any homework?"  
  
"Oh yes, mum. It was great. I still have to finish up an essay, but it won't take long," Hermione answered. A fluttery feeling crept into the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Granger paused and sniffed the air for a moment.  
  
"Do you smell something?"  
  
"Nothing, dear," Mr. Granger grunted.  
  
"No, mum," Hermione replied untruthfully. She could smell paint. Oh dear. It was certainly lucky her parents slept downstairs or she could be in a lot of trouble before the night was through. Secretly, however, Hermione still felt quite pleased with herself. If only she could keep her mother from checking on her. Just this night is all it would take…

............

A/N: Hurray! Another chapter. Anyways, the bit about Rosemary must be credited to The Encyclopedia of Herbs and Herbalism, edited by Malcolm Stuart, published by Crescent Books in 1979, I believe (MCMLXXIX, I can't read Roman numerals). Also to The Rodale Herb Book: How to Use, Grow, and Buy Nature's Miracle Plants, by no one in particular, published by Rodale Press in 1974. The bit about eh eight foot Rosemary tree I threw in for kicks. There's rather a lot about Rosemary and it's play in Christian mysticism…stuff about Mary's veil being tossed over a white-flowering Rosemary plant and it taking on the veil's hue (blue) and another bit about how the plant grew to six feet in 33 years, Christ's height and length of life, but never any higher because of reverence to the Lord or something like that. You learn something every day. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Changes Made  
  
Chapter 3**  
  
Snape's robes billowed ominously around him as he strode towards Dumbledore's office. His scowl caused figures in the portraits along the corridor duck for fear that the glass in their frames would break should he glance in their direction. He reached the stone gargoyle at the end of the hallway and nearly shouted the password, "Fizzing Whizbee", in his anxiousness to see the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The spiral staircase rose to the heavy wooden door, which Snape burst through without knocking. Dumbledore looked up from his seat behind the desk.  
  
"Ah, Severus. I've been expecting you."  
  
"Headmaster," Snape said, fury making his voice strangely calm. "What is the meaning of this?" He produced the crumpled message delivered minutes earlier by the house elf.  
  
"My dear Severus, I should have thought it quite clear! Do you have some sort of problem with it?" Dumbledore smiled to himself and looked questioningly at the younger man before him.  
  
"How can you ask me to resume Occlumency classes with Potter? And you want me to teach Hermione Granger, too? You know what that infernal boy saw during our last lesson!" Snape exclaimed, moving his arm about expressively.  
  
"Yes, I do, Severus. I trust that you remember what Harry saw after your last lesson together as well. We can not let that happen again, for the sake of every one involved," Dumbledore explained kindly, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. Snape looked slightly abashed, but then continued.  
  
"But why Granger as well?" he demanded, looking even angrier.  
  
"Because I believe Miss Granger has the mental capacity to learn Occlumency and do well. Her presence there will also encourage Harry to do well, and I suspect," Dumbledore smiled again, "that she will also encourage Harry to practice."   
  
"I don't want to repeat what happened last time," Snape said tiredly.  
  
"I quite understand," Dumbledore assured him. "If you like, you may remove particularly uncomfortable memories in my office and I shall place them in a carefully locked cupboard until you see fit to return them to your head. However, if I understand correctly, it was an experience that Harry hardly desires to repeat, and Hermione Granger is not likely to do anything so careless as to wander into another's thoughts." At this Snape relented.  
  
"Very well, Headmaster." He gazed broodingly for a moment at his oldest friend. "Any news from Headquarters?"  
  
"Nothing new," Dumbledore answered, beginning to rifle through papers on his desk. "The Ministry is still in an uproar. New precautions all over the place. If I didn't know better, I'd say several of them were designed more to keep people inside the Ministry rather than out of it. Fudge has ordered new background checks on everyone. Several of the shadier fellows are being closely watched, including Lucius Malfoy, who is being very careful not to get his robes wet." Here Dumbledore chuckled. "Any change in your Mark?"  
  
"None," Snape replied, twitching his left arm reflexively. "He's being careful not to make any disturbance that will get him caught."  
  
"I don't suppose you've come to any conclusions as to how we might locate his Soulstone?"  
  
"None, sir."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I'll let you know if anything comes up, Severus. In the meantime, perhaps you'd better work on a lesson plan. I would like your lessons to commence two weeks before start-of-term. I'll be sending letters to Mr. Potter and Miss Granger within the hour." Snape knew a dismissal when he heard one. He took his leave and departed.

................................................................................................................................................

Hermione had removed the drop cloth from overtop the cluster of furniture at the centre of her room. Her bed was nestled snugly between the bureau and the desk, still wrinkle-free, waiting for her to clamber into it. Hermione stood by the door in her pyjamas and slippers, listening for her mother's footsteps on the stairs. Soon enough, they came, and holding her breath Hermione shot out of her room, closing the door behind her.  
  
With an excellent display of acting skills, Hermione pretended that she had been in the bathroom getting a drink of water.  
  
"Is everything all right, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked worriedly, coming to the head of the staircase.  
  
"Of course, mum. Just caught a bit of a frog in my throat and needed a drink," Hermione answered. "Everything's fine." Mrs. Granger took a step towards Hermione's bedroom and stretched her hand out to grab the door knob.  
  
"Why is your door closed, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked.  
  
"Oh no reason!" Hermione leapt forward and stepped between her mother and the door. "I just had to closed to keep Crookshanks out tonight. I'm leaving the window open so Griselda can get in, and I don't want him tying to jump out of it."  
  
"Has he done that before?" Mrs. Granger frowned in thought. "That isn't very safe, is it? Oh well, in that case, I won't tuck you in tonight, okay? Are you sure you don't smell something?"  
  
"Yes, mum, I'm sure. Good night!" Hermione hugged her mother, breathing an inward sigh of relief. Her heart was still beating quickly as her mother descended the stairs. 

............

The next morning, Hermione woke with a flutter in her stomach. She had a new plan for the day. As soon as her parents had gone off to work, Hermione flew back up the stairs and dressed quickly. Grabbing her purse, Hermione legged it for the nearest bus stop. Within minutes a noisy bus lumbered up and Hermione got on, handing her fare to the cranky looking man behind the wheel. Another few minutes on the bus had her nearly to the centre of town where she quickly located a promising department store.  
  
Once inside, Hermione hurried to the bedding section where she found bedclothes and pillows in every shape and size one could imagine. Pulling from her purse the paint chips that she'd used in her room, Hermione began searching for the perfect matches. Half an hour later, she had it narrowed down to two sets. One was the same crimson as her walls with golden stars and moons printed on it. The other was a deep royal blue with glow-in-the-dark constellations on it. Ultimately, Hermione decided that the stars-and-moons print fit the room much better, and she moved on to choose bedroom accessories to match the sheets. 

............

Hermione rode the bus home giddy with excitement. The shopping bags piled in the seat next to her were tangible proof of her new found resolve to step from the corner where everyone seemed to place her. When she reached home, Hermione shuffled inside, laden with her heavy bags. Upstairs, she rearranged her furniture and in a flash had everything off the bed and waiting to be put through the wash. Deciding she could wait no longer, Hermione removed her new things from their plastic packaging and almost reverently deposited them around her room. She began with the sheets, then the pillowcases and comforter, and then one fantastic little pillow shaped like a star that she'd found in a corner of the store.   
  
Next, Hermione replaced the frilly white lampshade that covered the lamp on her bureau with a tasteful golden one, accented neatly with red beads. She exchanged the lacy curtains over the window for some that matched the bedclothes. A sweet little alarm clock, also shaped like a star, now resided in her desk. The wall opposite her bed now played host to a poster of the Weird Sisters, and next to her bureau, Hermione had tacked a clever poster of Kenneth Branagh.   
  
The final touch to the room was a crimson throw rug with the image of a sleeping lion on it. On the reverse side, the lion was posed proudly, as if making to bellow out an earth-quaking roar. As she stepped back to take in the final effect, Hermione couldn't resist hugging herself and doing a little dance. As if to signify that this was obviously how things ought to be, Crookshanks ambled past her and jumped easily to her bed, curling up quite as if he belonged there. He then proceeded to purr loudly. All Hermione had to do now was wait. 

............  
  
A/N: Hello everyone! This story is incredibly easy to write, assuming I can find all the proper words to tell it with. The only problem now is finding time in which to write! Of course, if I don't have time to write, I'm too busy, but tell that to my mum and see what you get. Wow! So many reviews! I am, quite frankly, amazed and astounded. Thank you all!


	4. Chapter Four

**Changes Made  
  
Chapter Four**  
  
In his office, Snape sifted through paper and bits of parchment, sometimes finding pieces of particularly painful student-written essays, attempting to re-organise his desk. So far, it hadn't gone at all well. With a growl, Snape levitated his wastebasket to his side and began to sweep things into it. When he looked for his grade book, however, Snape was forced to make a sort of dive back into the overflowing basket to retrieve it.   
  
Now thoroughly exasperated, Snape sank into his chair to collect himself. He couldn't get rattled about all of this. It was a simple supplementary class for a couple of students. This wasn't going to be the crisis he imagined. But if that was so, why did he feel so damned uneasy? Taking a deep breath, Snape reached for his grade book. He began to sort through it, removing notes made to himself, more ridiculous essays, and an important looking piece of parchment with an emerald green seal upon it. Snape opened it and immediately recognised the tight, forced script of Lucius Malfoy. Yes, he remembered this letter.  
  
_ Severus,  
  
I understand that my son has been having trouble in one or two of his classes. This must not continue. I trust that you will take the necessary steps to avoid my presence at Hogwarts. Also, I am sure you have noticed that the serpent is once more venturing from his den. Tread warily.  
  
Lucius   
  
_ Of course Lucius would worry about his spoiled son and his grades. Nothing less than top marks, or else. What would the boy be doing after school, Snape wondered. He had expressed interest in a job with the Ministry, and being the intelligent, if somewhat cruel boy that he was, Draco Malfoy would probably go a very long way. His talent in Potions would no doubt be useful as a Mediwizard, perhaps or a supplier of draughts and such for special Ministry operations. If only he weren't so self-centred. He tended to toy with people, charm them and then ignore them completely, bending them slowly to his will.   
  
That last couple of phrases in the letter went straight to Order Headquarters, even though they weren't very useful, but the "tread warily" bit was slightly disturbing. How much did Lucius suspect? Or perhaps the Dark Lord himself? Or perhaps it had merely been a warning to stay out of the way of Barty Junior – difficult, as he hadn't known Barty was even at the school. A knock at the door interrupted these thoughts.  
  
"Come in," Snape said shortly, getting to his feet. Poppy Pomfrey entered the room rather stiffly, looking around with a touch of distaste that she hid neatly when she began to speak.  
  
"Professor Sprout informs me that the Tarantacula fangs have been harvested and are ready for use."  
  
"Please tell her I said thank you," Snape said, meeting Madam Pomfrey's eyes.   
  
"Also," Madam Pomfrey continued, "I was hoping you might make me a batch of those Pepper-up Potions, and a few for summer colds. I'm running quite low."  
  
"Very well," Snape nodded, making a mental note of it. With a nod, Madam Pomfrey left again. Snape sighed to himself and looked around. On the walls were rows of shelves were jars of preserving fluid held several rare and even extinct magical animals and insects. Some of the jars held fluid that kept the animals paralysed and unconscious, not dead, meaning that at any moment, one could revive them for use. The room was admittedly not well lighted, and he supposed it must look quite imposing and unpleasant. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine himself how others must see him. It wasn't a very welcoming image by any means. A pale, hook-nosed man, tall with dark eyes and dark clothing that flapped about imperiously when he walked, finished off my a mop of greasy hair that looked all-too unbecoming.   
  
Snape brought a hand up to touch his hair with a sudden thought. He remembered the book he'd been reading before He had been interrupted by the house elf's message delivery. Perhaps it was time for a change in his life. It had been a long time since anything had changed for Snape. He strode from his office with a new purpose.

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Hermione had spent the rest of her afternoon finishing her homework and petting Crookshanks. At about five-thirty, Griselda flew into her room and landed on the birdcage with a hoot of amazement at her new surroundings. Hermione untied the letter from the owl's leg with a flutter of excitement.   
  
_ Dear Hermione,   
  
I hope you're well. Nothing much is happening here, but it's better than last summer. Dudley is finally losing weight, so Aunt Petunia is being a little more lax with his diet. We actually have bags of crisps hanging around now, even if they are fat-free. No new scar pangs, no news from the Order. Plenty of time to do my homework, though. I expect you've finished yours. Tell Crookshanks hello, and nice owl, by the way. She and Hedwig are already great pals.   
  
Harry _  
  
Hermione closed the letter with a smile. Light-hearted without the merest hint of anxiety or loneliness. How very Harry. She made a mental note to send him some proper snacks as soon as possible, and none of those sugar-free things her parents insisted upon. This room-painting business was really going to her head!

............

When her parents came home at six, Hermione had dinner waiting on the table. They sat down for another quiet meal accompanied with light, meaningless chatter. The table was cleared, and one made-for-television movie later, Hermione excused herself to bed. Up in her room, Hermione pulled a drawing pad from a desk and began to sketch clothing designs that she'd seen in one of the magazines at the supermarket. It seemed that her wardrobe as well as her room would be receiving a makeover.  
  
An hour or so later, Hermione heard her mother coming up the stairs. Again she employed the drink of water ruse. As much fun as it would have been to see the look on her mother's face, she decided that she would be more able to enjoy it in the morning. With that, Hermione wished her mother good night and went to bed.  
  
"Oh my sainted aunt!" A horrified voice woke Hermione the next morning, Her mother stood in the doorway to her room with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide in shock. "George! George come here!" Hermione's father rushed up the stairs to join his wife in the doorway.   
  
"Good Lord," he said calmly. "When did this happen?"  
  
"The past two days," Hermione explained with a yawn. "I got tired of the white."  
  
"But this is blood-coloured!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed. "How is it any better?"   
  
"No, mum," Hermione said with a small smile. "It's Gryffindor-coloured. You always wanted me to show a bit more school spirit."  
  
"That was your father!" Mrs. Granger cried shrilly. "Oh dear. Do the neighbors know about this?"  
  
"How could they? They were all off at work while I was working. Besides, what business is it of theirs what colour my bedroom is?" Hermione asked with a frown.  
  
"It's the principle of the thing!" Mrs. Granger squeaked. "They'll think I have no standards! Oh, I don't know what they'll think, but I'm sure it won't be good. George, I need to leave this room." Mr. Granger stepped out of the way. His wife hurried from her daughter's bedroom, hand held to her forehead.  
  
"How did you, er, finance this particular project?" Mr. Granger asked with interest.   
  
"My allowance from the past two years," Hermione answered.   
  
"Well, at least I know what you spent it on," Mr. Granger said optimistically. "Now, while I am not perhaps as upset as your mother seems to be, I am a bit perturbed as to why you didn't ask us for permission beforehand."  
  
"For one thing, I knew mum would never let me paint it like this. For another, I wanted to do it on my own," Hermione explained simply. Her father sighed.  
  
"While I understand completely," Mr. Granger began, (Do you, Hermione thought.) "I wish you had asked first. Now your mother is all upset. How about no more changes to the house without permission, all right?"  
  
"Sure, dad," Hermione said dully. Of course her mother was upset! Her daughter had decided to do things her own way for once. What a nasty shock that would be, Hermione thought, rather sullenly. "Why was she up here, anyway?" Mr. Granger held out a letter.  
  
"This arrived for you this morning. Lovely tawny sort of owl, but left feathers on the windowsill. Annoyed your mother and all."  
  
"Right." Hermione took the letter.  
  
"Maybe it would be better if I took your mother to work right away. Give her some time to cool off, what?"   
  
"Right," Hermione said again. "Have a good day, dad."  
  
"See you this evening, sweetheart." Mr. Granger left, and a moment later, Hermione heard the front door open and close. A car motored out of the driveway. She watched her parents drive away, feeling inwardly triumphant. Maybe they'd take more notice now. Unlikely, but possible. With that, Hermione opened the letter and read it quickly.  
  
Not quite believing what she'd just read, Hermione read it a gain. Her jaw nearly hit the floor. Surely this was a joke!   
  
_Dear Miss Granger,  
  
It is my wish that you attend Occlumency classes with Professor Snape starting one week before start-of-term. It may interest you to know that your friend Harry Potter will also be taking this class. Please owl me your response no later than July 31st. I hope you are having a lovely summer. _

_ Regards, _

_ Albus Dumbledore   
Headmaster  
_  
This would take some thinking over.

............  
  
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I am hoping my section dividers will show up this time. I'll check on it later, though. I'm sort of busy. Expect a chappie with both of out heroes together v. v. soon! I promise!


	5. Chapter Five

**Changes Made  
  
Chapter Five**  
  
Snape stirred the bubbling cauldron before him with rapt attention. In no more time than it took to blink, the cauldron's surface turned a bright orange and filled the air with peppery smoke. He immediately removed it from the fire and began to dip it into bottles, medically warded against contamination. He reached up out of habit to shove his hair from his eyes and found no reason to, as his hair was now held firmly in a small tail at the nape of his neck. He returned his attention to the vials of potion he was filling and finished the task without spilling so much as a drop.   
  
Waving his wand, Snape performed the charm for cleaning and then carefully placed the bottles of Pepper-Up potion in a waiting box. He opted to carry them up to the Hospital wing rather than floating it along with his wand. It was too easy for Peeves the Poltergeist to shoot from somewhere and knock it to the floor if it was hanging in the air. If the box was in his arms, however, the castle pest would face the nearly impossible task of startling Snape enough to make him lose his grip on the box. When he arrived in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was busy tidying a cabinet.  
  
"Poppy, your Pepper-Up potion," Snape said shortly.  
  
"Thank you, Sev-" Madam Pomfrey began, turning around. She cut herself off when she caught sight of Snape.  
  
"Something wrong, Poppy?" Snape asked crisply.  
  
"Not at all, Severus. I was only noting your new look. It is quite...refreshing," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling forward to take the box of potion-filled vials from Snape, who inclined his head.  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I hope you find this batch acceptable." Turning on his heel, Snape left the Hospital Wing, this time without the familiar flapping of his robes at his sides. For this day, Snape had chosen conservative black trousers and a black shirt of silk. Still dark, but less reminiscent of a bat, he thought, and nearly smiled, but caught himself. He rounded a corner and found himself face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Ah, Severus. I was just looking for you," Dumbledore said with a welcoming smile.  
  
"Headmaster. Has there been news?" Snape asked with masked interest.  
  
"Not from the Order," Dumbledore replied, "however, I felt you might wish to know that both Harry and Hermione have accepted the offer of Occlumency lessons and will be arriving here on August 24th. You may wish to experiment with lesson plans."  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster. I expect that you didn't give them much choice in the matter, though. I strongly suspect that neither of them would take these lessons by choice."  
  
"Just as you wouldn't teach them by choice, Severus. However, you might be surprised by the way that attitudes change over time. It isn't something you have had a great deal of experience with, but young people often surprise us with their perspectives, and occasionally, they even help us change ourselves in ways we never expected," Dumbledore said, meeting Snape's eyes. His expression was unfathomable. Feeling slightly confused, Snape said nothing. Dumbledore let the silence hang for a moment before breaking it once more. "I see you have chosen a new look, Severus. I can not say I disapprove in the slightest. An excellent decision, by any standards."  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape said, not displeased with this assessment.  
  
"I am afraid I may have mislead you a moment ago...when I informed you that there was no news from Headquarters, I neglected to inform you that there was instead a bit of business I would like you to take care of. Mundungus Fletcher had informed us earlier of a bit of criminal activity including the trafficking of precious gem stones to dark wizards by way of Greater Sweeney, a small city near London, inhabited mainly by Muggles. You probably heard about his when we found out about it Early in June. Although we don't really suspect to find anything there, I would like you to investigate. Today if possible, Severus. Mundungus managed to discover a few of the details fo their operation, but the traffickers may change their patterns at any time."  
  
"Of course, Headmaster. I need only know what Fletcher has found." The two men made their way to Dumbledore's office speaking quietly.

.............

In a shadowed alleyway, Snape leaned against the wall and watched unobserved as a dark-robed man ducked from a doorway and glanced around. He hefted a crate from a rubbish bin and winced as the lid clattered to the ground. Snape let the man stumble closer to him before stepping forward to block his path. Without speaking, Snape stood, letting the dirty man before him take in the long, hooded cloak that Snape had donned for this occasion. He began to back away, still holding the box, but Snape produced his wand and aimed it carefully at the box, levitating it from the man's grasp.  
  
"What are you doing?" the man demanded. "Give it back!" he was obviously scared. This hadn't been expected. Wand now aimed at the man before him, Snape opened the box and found a mound of precious-looking gems in several colours. Still without speaking, Snape sifted through them, and finding one he liked, held it up. At first it appeared to be a large sapphire, but under Snape's experienced eye, it was judged to be a well-produced fake. He took a moment to disguise his voice before speaking to the man who cowered against the wall.  
  
"What are you doing with these?" he asked, dropping the imitation gem back into the box. The man seemed to relax as he saw the gem return to the box, but the fear didn't leave his voice as he spoke.  
  
"Nothing," the man said, shrinking back.  
  
"It is unwise to lie to me," Snape said, twitching his wand. The man ducked, but finding no curses aimed at him, he answered.  
  
"I'm just delivering them."  
  
"To whom," Snape demanded.  
  
"To the man who ordered them."  
  
"And that would be...?"  
  
"I don't know. He always wears a mask."  
  
"What colour?"  
  
"Really dark green. Silver decoration."  
  
"Have you ever seen his face?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hair?"  
  
"Once. It was blonde." Of course, the only person stupid enough to wear a very identifiable mask when ordering black market materials.  
  
"Take your box and go," Snape ordered. The man ducked forward and snatched the box, then skittered away down the alley. On his way out of the alley, Snape removed the cloak and stuffed it into a rubbish bin. He looked down at his clothing. Not even dusty. Good. 

................................................................................................................................................

When her parents arrived home once more that evening, it was as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Granger, if slightly more exuberant than usual, was bursting with friendly anecdotes about the day, and Mr. Granger made several amusing jokes about the dentistry. After dinner, Hermione played a rousing game of Gin with her parents and then introduced the topic of Occlumency lessons.  
  
"Er, mum," she began. Mrs. Granger looked up expectantly.   
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"Well, the letter I got this morning was from the Headmaster. He wants me to take a course on Occlumency in my free time this year."  
  
"Occlu- what?" Mr. Granger asked, brow furrowed.  
  
"It's a sort of mental magic. My friend Harry, I've told you about him, took it some last year."  
  
"Who's the teacher?" Mrs. Granger asked with interest.  
  
"Professor Snape," Hermione mumbled.  
  
"Are you sure you want to take it then? He hasn't been very kind…" Mrs. Granger trailed off doubtfully and looked at her husband.  
  
"Hermione, don't take this if you don't feel it completely worthy of your time," ordered Mr. Granger severely. "I've heard more than one story about that man."  
  
"I think it might be useful, honestly," Hermione said. "I've been thinking about it all day. I expect Professor Dumbledore wants me to take it in part to help Harry as well. It sounds interesting, though. I've done some research. A History of Magic says that the first wizards to learn it were also the first reported telekinetics."  
  
"How illuminating," Mrs. Granger said pleasantly. "I suppose if you want to, dear, you'd better take it."  
  
"The catch is that classes begin one week before school starts. They'll house me at the castle. I don't know why it will begin before the rest of the term, but it must be important," Hermione said thoughtfully.  
  
"Oh. Well, then I guess you'll just pack a week early then, dear. I don't suppose Mr. Dumbledore sent your list of required equipment for next year?" Hermione shook her head. "When does he need your reply?"  
  
"July 31st. But I think I might go owl him now." Mrs. Granger nodded and smiled. Hermione pushed her chair away from the table and headed up the stairs to her room. She relaxed a bit once she was sitting at her desk. She carefully dug through her desk for a piece of parchment and a quill and then began a concise response.  
  
_ Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
  
I would be delighted to take Occlumency training and I would like to thank you for this opportunity. I hope you won't think me rude to say that I suspect you wish me to encourage Harry to practice as well. I need only to know how exactly to reach Hogwarts one week before September first. Thank you again!  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Hermione Granger  
_  
Satisfied with this, Hermione tied the letter to Griselda's leg. Griselda nipped Hermione's finger affectionately, and hopped cheerily out of the window, catching herself a few feet down and flying away into the darkening sky. Hermione turned back to her "blood-coloured" room and made a little hop in mid-air. Everything was finally coming together!   
  
In the next few days, she planned to adjust her wardrobe to her surfacing new taste in clothes. The other girls at school wore terribly cute outfits beneath her robes, so Hermione saw no reason why she couldn't as well, and even wear them around the common room and on weekends. All the money she'd saved was really coming in handy, and after all, her father had only said she couldn't change the house without permission. Loopholes were bloody useful, she thought, and went to bed.

............

The next morning, it seemed that Mr. and Mrs. Granger drove cheerily to work, completely free of worry. Hermione stopped waving once they'd turned the corner at the end of the street and shut the door. She leaned back against the solid wood and beamed giddily at Crookshanks, who watched her, blinking sleepily, from the staircase. Hermione leapt up the stairs, causing Crookshanks to shrink back against the wall, and glare.   
  
After she was dressed, Hermione stopped rushing about long enough to study herself in the mirror. Inspiration struck. She rummaged in the top drawer of her bureau until she found the make-up that a woman in Boots had sold her once. Taking a breath, Hermione applied a touch of glitter to her eyelids, and then a touch of lippy. After all, this was going to be a special day. She spun around and took her outfit designs from her desk and placed them carefully in her purse, then checking to make sure her remaining money was securely there, too, she rubbed Crookshanks behind the ears and dashed down the stairs and then out the door, headed once more for the bus stop.  
  
One bumpy bus ride later, Hermione stood in the centre of town, staring around wide eyed at the bustling people around her. It wasn't often that she came here, especially without her parents, and even after yesterday, it was still quite amazing. Realising all at once how silly she must look, Hermione blinked, took a deep breath, and attempted to look as if she new exactly what she was doing. She headed straight for the first clothing store she saw, which turned out to be filled with lacy lingerie. Smiling pleasantly at the woman behind the counter Hermione immediately spun around and left, hearing the door's bells tinkle after her.   
  
Taking yet another deep breath, Hermione pointed herself down one street and began purposefully to walk down it, avoiding the gum on the sidewalk and the ladies with small crying children and the annoyed-looking men in business suits. Soon enough, she found what she was looking for; a clothing store filled to the brim with stylish clothing for people her age. Hermione ducked inside and pulled out her drawings. 

............  
  
Three or four stores later, Hermione had everything she wanted, and was feeling a bit chuffed, too, as she was still under budget. Her mother would be proud, if Hermione ever bothered to tell her about it. Maybe a few years into the future. Thinking this, Hermione watched the traffic on the road before her, waiting to cross. The traffic stopped as the light changed and Hermione began to cross, not particularly paying attention to the cars around her. She'd nearly reached the other side when a reckless teenage driver in a blue motor car drove round the corner a few yards away, running the light and headed straight at her. Hermione didn't even notice.

............

A/N: Another day, another chapter... Hurray for Hermione! Now, someone sent me a review saying that they didn't like the Dursleyish qualities of Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Now, the image I have of them is sort of like the Dursleys but not really, because unlike Petunia and Vernon, the Grangers are feeling okay with the whole witch/wizard thing and they aren't mean or nasty. They are supportive of their daughter, but still reserve a bit of the "we are no longer normal" mind set that keeps Petunia nervous. She isn't quite as overboard or awful about it, but when Mrs. Granger gets riled up, she can be a bit self-conscious. However, I am sure that many of us may find this quality in our parents or friends or even ourselves! It's not bad, just normal human behaviour. :-) Now, there was somethng else I was going to say, but I don't remember what it was. Happy reading! 


	6. Chapter Six

**Changes Made**

**Chapter Six**

"Oof!" Hermione hit the ground hard. The person who had shoved her roughly from the path of the car stood, and grasping her hand firmly, pulled her shakily to her feet. She knew there was something familiar about his figure, but Hermione didn't recognise him immediately as his face was turned away from her. He seemed to be staring rather angrily after the blue car, which had turned another corner. Hermione heard sirens coming and looked to see a disgruntled-looking police man shooting after him on a motorcycle. The man before her shook his head and turned back to her. Hermione gasped, her eyes suddenly wide.  
  
Although his hair was now clean and pulled back into a bit of a tail, and the skin was definitely not as pale as in past times, the hooked nose and severe dark eyes belonged only to one person. Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood looking at Hermione with a closed, calm face, seeming to disregard her expression entirely. He lifted her right hand, pulling her arm straight, and gently rolled up the sleeve, examining it for injury. All he found was a small scratch and some slight swelling, which would later become a bruise. He pressed his fingers gently around the bruise, causing Hermione to wince.  
  
"Can you move your arm?" he inquired gruffly. Hermione tested it gingerly.  
  
"Yes," she replied, looking up at him.  
  
"You'll live. Pay attention next time." And before Hermione could say anything else, he had turned the corner down the street and was gone.  
  
............  
  
Everything now hung in her closet, pressed and ready to wear, still smelling slightly floral from the washing soap. It was all Hermione could do not to try it all on again. Below that, a neat row of shoes sat on the floor, the old black loafers now joined by new trainers and sandals, and even a pair of gleaming heels. Mr. and Mrs. Granger arrived in the driveway. Hermione shut her closet and strode briskly down the stairs to meet her parents at the door.   
  
Still nursing her arm a bit, Hermione prepared the evening meal and set the table, inviting her parents to the kitchen. Hermione's parents' chatter was not disruptive to her own thoughts, which she did not share with her family.  
  
She couldn't keep her mind off of Snape. The gentleness in his manner as he examined her arm was nearly lost in his closed face. Of course, it could just have been routine, medical indifference, but he hadn't ever shown her anything but coldness and insults before. In typical Snape style, he hadn't stayed around even long enough to thank him. Strangely enough, Hermione found that she wanted to thank him, at least a little bit. It could wait until she saw him again, she supposed, but found the idea of waiting that long rather rude. It couldn't wait, she decided, and made a mental note to write him a letter.  
  
Thinking back on the changes in his appearance, Hermione couldn't be anything but pleased. The hair was much better, and he didn't look quite so ghostly as before. It was...nice, and odd word to be using to describe Snape, but nonetheless. That day in town he had been decidedly nice. Hermione found herself curious, however, as to why he had been there at all. It was certainly a coincidence, and a well-timed one at that.   
  
Supper finished and Mrs. Granger helped her daughter clear the table, clinking dishes together as she placed them in the sink.  
  
"Did you have a good day, dear?" she asked, trying to make conversation.  
  
"Pardon?" Hermione looked up from the plate she was fidgeting with.  
  
"Did you have a good day, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked again.  
  
"Oh, yes," Hermione answered, hurrying to collect the rest of the dishes from the table. "I finished a project I've been working on. Everything is ready for school now, except of course, for this year's books and all. Watch that pot!" Thus distracted, Mrs. Granger forgot all about the subject of Hermione's day.  
  
Hermione excused herself to bed not long afterwards, petting Crookshanks who had his nose buried in his food bowl. In her room, Hermione found Griselda helping herself to some owl-nibblets in the open birdcage. On her desk was a letter from Dumbledore. Hermione opened it quickly.  
  
_ Dear Miss Granger,  
  
I am most pleased that you have accepted the invitation to take this class. I am sure you will enjoy it very much. However, you are quite correct that furthering your education is not the only thing on my cluttered-up mind. I would most appreciate it if you took every care to encourage Harry to practice, work hard, and learn all he can from or Potions Master. This, as you probably understand from last year, is vital.   
  
On the 24th of August, the Hogwarts express will be waiting for you at Platform 9 3/4 at 10 o'clock sharp. The castle will of course be providing you with the comforts you are used to, as well as a sort of relaxation of the regular school-time rules. Thank you again for your help in this matter. I hope you enjoy the class, difficult as the subject may be, as I know this will come as no obstacle to you. Until the 24th!  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster_  
  
No sooner had Hermione finished reading this than a snowy white owl glided silently into the room and, dropping another letter before Hermione, settled onto the desk beside her, nudging a stray quill with her beak, hooting softly.   
  
Hello, Hedwig. Owl treat?" Hermione offered one from the decorative tin on her desk. Hedwig took it, with a hoot of thanks and settled down to wait. Obviously, Hermione decided, Harry's letter required a response.  
  
_ Hermione,  
  
Please tell me that you are actually going to take those Occlumency classes with me. Dumbledore said you were, but I just want to make sure you haven't changed your mind or anything. I'm not sure I'd be able to stand it on my own. And please, don't expect me to practice too hard, alright? I know it's important, especially after last year, but there's a lot of stuff I don't really want to remember right now. You know what I mean.   
_  
Hermione sighed. Of course.  
  
_ I hope you're having an all right summer. Has anything exciting happened to you yet? When are you planning to hit Diagon Alley? I should be able to talk my aunt and uncle into driving me to London. After the Howler Aunt Petunia got last year, they aren't anxious to make me sweat in any great capacity. Hedwig will hang around until you've written back...no comment on your punctuality, just that she needs some time away from here.   
  
See you,  
Harry  
_  
Hermione immediately pulled a sheet of parchment from her desk and began a response to her friend.  
  
_ Dear Harry,  
  
You'll never believe who I ran into, or rather, who ran into me in town today...  
_  
...................................................................................................................................................................................................  
  
After finding Mundungus Fletcher and informing him that the so-called precious gems were really only good imitations, and that the one behind it was Lucius Malfoy, probably trying to buy off somebody or another, Severus Snape apparated to the Hogwarts gates.   
  
"Severus Snape," he said loudly to the wrought-iron in front of him. After a moment's hesitation they creaked inward, allowing Snape to enter the grounds. It seemed that they, too, had noticed his new look. The most that he saw on his trek up to the castle was a blue-tinted squirrel that shot across his path, tail smoking as it fled from something in the forest. Beyond that part of the path came the manicured grounds that swept gloriously upwards to the towering castle. It really was remarkable how formidable the grounds made the castle look. Although few of the windows were lit, the castle seemed to glow, reflecting the setting sun on it's walls and spires. The lake, cupped by the lawns, glittered as well, the surface disturbed by something large looming just below the surface. The walk was long, however, giving Snape plenty of time to think.

He couldn't help wondering a bit why he'd been so willing to leap about the street pushing people out of oncoming traffic. Of course, as a witch, Hermione Granger wouldn't have been badly hurt, but thinking about it, he hadn't noticed it was her until just before he'd thrown himself into the air. So what did that mean? Perhaps working for the Order of the Phoenix had rubbed off on him. The expression on her face when she'd seen it was him had been one of shock, as if she hadn't thought him capable of such an action. Or perhaps that he was incapable of such action on her behalf. Or perhaps it was the surprise of seeing him without the robes or greasy hair. Or perhaps, it was the realisation that she had nearly been struck by a vehicle moving at high speed that had made her look as though something slimy had just hopped into her mouth.   
  
Snape had been examining her arm when that surprised expression had faded from her features. She had been watching him, eyes flicking from her arm to his face as he moved his fingers gently on her smooth, soft skin. Her eyes, when hit just right by the light, glowed, it seemed, or perhaps it was his imagination. He'd been almost sorry to have hurt her when she winced at his touch on her bruising abrasions, which was an odd feeling. Snape had never felt anything but a slight disdain for her know-it-all mentality. Maybe more than slight, he thought, so why had he felt himself melting a little as he examined her for that short time? It hadn't been more than five minutes altogether. Better perhaps to put it from his mind, to forget about the colour of her eyes and the length of her lashes and the grace with which she moved, even after being knocked roughly to the sidewalk. Better to think about why Lucius Malfoy was daring to dip his pristine fingers into the muddy mirk of gem trafficking.   
  
Malfoy had always had his own reasons for everything...or so he liked others to believe. It was Snape's personal opinion that Malfoy always acted upon what he thought would draw others into his power or help him climb the power ladder of the dark community, both, if at all possible, and he didn't care what he had to do to get what he wanted. Smuggling fake gems across England. What could he be doing? As Snape had told Fletcher, he was probably buying someone off or trying to purchase favours and trust. That would last as long as no one discovered that the stones were really glass. Of course, it was also possible that Malfoy himself didn't know, in which case the blame would fall on his suppliers, who ever they were, and that would be nearly impossible to trace. However, Snape secretly prided himself on his ability to trace trails gone dead. From his pocket, Snape pulled a smallish-sized "gem" and held it up. He'd palmed it when he picked up the first stone to examine and simply hadn't returned it afterwards.   
  
............  
  
Alone in his room, Snape lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The blanket wrinkled under him and he twitched it back smooth. The silence pressed in on him from all sides, pressing him into the thin mattress. He shut his eyes. Bad move. Now there wasn't anything to distract him from one thought that surfaced and resurfaced in his mind. This had gone on long enough. It was time for the loneliness to end.

............

A/N: Hello everyone. I suppose cliffhangers must be effective....my eyebrows still feel slightly singed from the merry little flames I've been recieving. I didn't really intend for it to turn out that way, but it was more fun to write it that way. Now, as far as Dursleyish Grangers go, you may have noticed that 1.) Mrs. Granger is concerned for Hermione's welfare whilst the Dursleys aren't that much for Harry's (effects of Howlers not included) and 2.) Mr. Granger didn't fly off the broom handle quite so much as his wife did and in fact wants Hermione to have a bit of fun and independence, just without upsetting his wife in the process. It seems to be the opposite at my house.... At this point, Mrs. Granger is just sort of alarmed because her only child isn't being as sweet and submissive as usual. It's scary when your kids start acting on their own: ask any mum in the world! Right, well, my feet are sort of chilly right now. I want to go put on some socks (not Dobby-knitted though) and get to work on the next installment. Until another day!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Changes Made**

Chapter Seven

Harry had fallen asleep across from Hermione in the train compartment. Outside the train, the sky was grey with clouds and a light rain feel against the window. As the train swayed and jostled gently over the tracks, Hermione felt herself relaxing. She was finally going back to Hogwarts after an impossibly long summer. In the trunk on the floor next to her, Hermione had packed all of her books, robes and various other instruments of magical education. After letting Griselda out to fly at Platform 9 ¾, Hermione had collapsed her cage and tucked it inside the brilliantly coloured bed sheets she'd packed at the very last minute.

She stared out at the trees and fields flitting by. Past the glass, everything seemed dreary and sad. In the distance, lightning forked across the clouds. Inside the car, Hermione watched Harry sleeping. His chest rose and fell steadily and a peaceful smile barely touched the corners of his mouth. She wondered what he was dreaming about. If she were to fall asleep, Hermione was sure of what she'd see. Since her encounter with Snape in Greater Sweeney, she'd had one recurring dream.

In it, she was running hard and fast down a long, twisting corridor until she came to three doors. It didn't matter which door she chose in her dream; she always dove through one to find a huge field before her. In the dream, she kept running through the field until dark clouds began to gather on the horizon. Then she would stop and watch as the clouds drew closer and closer, and with the clouds came a thundering army all on horseback. She would turn to find another army coming from behind her and with nowhere to go, she would stand as they came closer and closer until a battle was raging all around her.

Sometimes a horse would stumble next to her and sometimes it was someone's shield falling that knocked her to the ground Just as the battle seemed to be ending, someone would call out her name and she would raise her head to see a figure racing towards her from across the field. As he reached her, Hermione would stretch a hand out to meet him and he'd begin to pull his helmet guard up. Then, from behind her, a spear would come shooting from nowhere and everything would slow down. Just before she ever got to see who the person running after her was or whether or not he was hit by the spear, she woke up, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

Hermione's personal recounting of events in this familiar dream was interrupted by the conductor's gruff announcement that the train was puling into Hogsmeade. Harry woke with a start and with a sleepy grin at Hermione, stood, stretched, and pulled his trunk from beneath his seat. Hermione shivered, shaking off the memory of her strange dream and returned Harry's smile.

"You all set, then? Had a nice nap?" she asked jokingly.

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Surprisingly comfortable, these seats. We don't need our robes on, do we?" Hermione shook her head.

"Rules are relaxed for us this week, anyway. I doubt we'll even have a curfew. However, I strongly suspect that our new lessons will be both mentally and physically exhausting. Harry, are you nervous about them at all?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, "There are some things I would rather not relive, if you know what I mean." Hermione nodded thoughtfully. A knock came on the door. The two of them looked up and saw the conductor waving jovially through the glass. "Come on," Hermione said, and opened the door.

.............

Harry and Hermione were seated in the Headmaster's office with Professor McGonagall beside them. Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, smiling.

"Welcome back, welcome back," he said cheerily. "I can't tell you how glad I am you decided to come. I realise it is rather unorthodox to invite you here before the actual start-of-term, and I understand completely the sacrifice you have made to be here. Because of that," Dumbledore leaned forward and peered at them over the tops of his spectacles, "the rules will be quite relaxed until September first. Although you will not have any sort of a curfew, it would be wise to tell a teacher here where you are going before you leave the castle. The Forest is still off-limits, but you may visit Hogsmeade at any time that you do not have other obligations. I ask that you stay together while away from the castle to avoid unpleasant incident, and that you be back to the castle in time for meals, which you will eat with the staff in the Great Hall. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Professor," Hermione answered.

"No, sir," Harry echoed.

"Professor McGonagall, will you show them to their rooms?"

"Rooms, Professor?" Hermione asked. "Not Gryffindor Tower?"

"No. In honour of your visit, we have arranged for two of the extra rooms in the castle to be prepared for you."

"Thanks, sir," Harry said, sounding a bit stunned. Professor Dumbledore winked at him.

"It was nothing. Professor?" Professor McGonagall rose, smiling uncharacteristically at Harry and Hermione.

"This way," she said, and led them from the room.

............

"Wicked," Hermione heard Harry say. She poked her head through the door separating their two rooms.

"Pleased, are you?" Hermione asked with a smile. "Wow. What a ceiling!" Harry was looking up so far he was nearly leaning backwards.

"You could play a game of Quidditch in here!" Harry exclaimed.

"And this is just your 'foyer'. Take a look at your bedroom, just through there." She pointed across the room. Harry obediently trotted over and walked inside.

"Bloody hell."

"Harry!" Hermione admonished. "Really, save it for something important."

"You could fit seventeen people in this bed without trying," Harry called, his voice muffled.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Hermione advised. "Your bathroom ought to be near cavernous as well. Mine is. I feel the drain alone is going to swallow me up. I'm going to unpack." She turned smartly and entered her bedroom. Her trunk waited at the foot of the bed. An industrial house-elf had already unpacked a few of the things, if the brilliant sheets now covering the bed gave any indication. Hermione sighed. S.P.E.W. had not got off well at all in the past year, and she really didn't expect any sort of change. In fact, it seemed she didn't have any choice but to accept it for the moment, and putting it from her mind, Hermione decided to tuck her clothing away in the wardrobe across the room. On a whim, Hermione kicked of her shoes and socks and sighed as her feet nestled into the soft, shaggy carpet. She wiggled her toes experimentally. It was lovely. With a smile to herself, she opened the rosewood wardrobe to find...

"Aaaaaaaah!" Hermione shrieked and stumbled backwards away from the wardrobe.

"What is it!?" Harry raced into the room, wand drawn. Pouring onto the floor were hundreds of tiny black beetles. In the middle of the room, Hermione danced up and down, shaking her legs and batting at her feet.

"Ouch! They bite!"

Harry shot a spell at the beetles, vanishing them away.

"Let me see," he said, crouching. "Stop that!" Hermione had nearly kicked him in the ear. He flicked the last one from just above her ankle, examining the welts rising quickly on her skin.

"That looks painful. Come on, let's get you to the Hospital Wing." Wincing with each step, Hermione let Harry lead her from their rooms, up three staircases to Madam Pomfrey's domain. "Madam Pomfrey?" Harry called, looking around as they entered.

"She's gone to see Professor Sprout, Potter," a cold voice answered from behind a screen. "What is it this time?" Professor Snape stepped from behind the panel, eyes icy and hard. His eyebrows twitched uncharacteristically when he saw Hermione and her bare feet.

"I opened a wardrobe in my room, Professor, and these beetles came out of it...." Hermione said quietly, looking down at the floor. Snape stepped forward.

"What kind of wardrobe?" he asked brusquely.

"Rosewood, sir," Hermione answered. Snape knelt next to her and extended a long slender finger to brush against one of the bites. Hermione shivered.

"Do they sting, or do they throb?" he asked, looking up at her. Hermione paused.

"Both, I think, sir." The answer was so soft he barely heard it.

"You'll live," Snape said, rising. "You were bitten by a magical species of Japanese Rose Beetle. They are only mildly venomous, but the bites are painful. I have an antidote in my office. Wait here." Snape turned on his heel and strode from the room. Hermione looked up to see Harry looking at her curiously.

"He's never acted like that before," he said bluntly.

"Well don't ask _me_ to explain it!" Hermione exclaimed defensively. She sank into a chair by the panel, reaching down to touch place where Snape's finger had been. It tingled oddly. When he'd looked up at her from the floor, that same touch of regret she'd seen in the street in Greater Sweeney had surfaced briefly in his eyes, softening and deepening them.

"And did you notice his hair?" Harry sounded shocked. "It was practically _clean_!"

"I did write that in my letter," Hermione reminded him.

"And he wasn't wearing that batty cloak, either," Harry continued.

"I wrote that, too, or did you read it?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

"I read it, it's just the shock of actually _seeing_ it, I guess." Harry shrugged and shook his head. "Weird." In very little time, Snape returned. Although not out of breath, it was clear that he'd hurried.

"Potter, you may go," Snape ordered. Without waiting for Harry to act, Snape began his treatment of Hermione's bites. Placing a bowl beneath her feet, Snape poured cool, clean water over them and dried them carefully with a towel. She winced as he pressed gently on the welts with the soft terry cloth. Sliding the bowl from beneath her feet, Snape replaced it with the towel and pulled a small vial from his pocket. He poured half of the contents into his hand and returning the stopper to the bottle, rubbed his hands briskly together. Then, carefully, he placed his hands on Hermione's left foot and began slow, smooth circles over the insect bites.

Hermione felt instant relief. A soft noise of contentment escaped her lips and she relaxed into the chair. She watched through half-lowered lids as Snape continued his magical pattern of medicinal massage. When he repeated the manoeuvre on her other foot, Hermione let her eyes close completely and allowed herself to enjoy the sensations Snape's fingers left on her skin.

............

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I had to do A LOT of editing on this chapter and the next one, with which I am nearly finished. Feedback on the coming chapters would be greatly appreciated, as I am beginning to get stuck in places and I really need ot know what is working and what isn't. Next chapter actual lessons begin. The Japanese Rose Beetle actually exists, by the way. They're about the size of a medium-sized thumbnail, shiny, and are usually black or dark green and copper. They prey on poor, innocent rosebushes like the one in my garden and make a pretty good nuisance of themselves. Plus, they bite, which is painful, although not enhanced with venom or anything. I added that bit in for effect. :-) Have a great day!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Changes Made**

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione stood nervously with Harry outside of Professor Snape's office.

"Are we supposed to be meeting here?" she asked, looking around and shivering. Her top was admittedly wanting in the warmth department.

"He didn't say," Harry answered, "but I'd _assume_ so." He peered down the drafty corridor. "Do you want my jacket?"

"No, thanks. I'll be all right." Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "I should have known this would happen. What a miserable day."

"I don't think he's coming," Harry said. He turned his head and looked at Hermione's watch. "He's fifteen minutes late already." He looked hopefully at Hermione. "Can we go?"

"Not yet." They waited another five minutes.

"No, he isn't coming," Harry decided, and grabbing Hermione's arm, began to walk away. Hermione reluctantly trailed along behind him. They had just reached three Marble Staircase when someone spoke behind them.

"Potter! Granger! Where do you think you're going?" Professor Snape barked furiously, storming from the dungeons. "I have been waiting for twenty minutes and _this_ is what I find? Shirking your first lesson?"

"We tried your door, sir," Harry tried to explain. "But it was locked. We waited at your office for twenty minutes but Hermione was getting cold and we didn't think you-" Snape cut him off.

"Miss Granger, is this true?"

"Yes, professor," she said meekly, looking at the floor.

"Come with me." Snape turned sharply and stalked away back into the dungeons. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, eyebrows raised. With a shrug, Harry followed, and Hermione after. Several corners later, they stood at a door, neither Harry nor Hermione had ever seen before. Obviously they'd been waiting in the wrong place. Snape tapped the doorknob with his wand and entered, leaving it open for his students.

Inside, Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the room's warmth. The dark glossy furniture was attractively simple, and she found herself intrigued by the globe sitting on the table. When her eyes alighted on the bookshelf, Hermione's fingers began to tingle… she could tell there were some worthwhile books on its shelves. A clatter diverted her attention. Harry had just tripped over one of two straight-backed chairs that matched the rest of the furniture in the room. Snape stared down his nose at the dark-haired boy.

"You sit on it, Potter, or had you been informed?" Snape said coldly. Harry seemed to ignore this and sat, gesturing Hermione to join him. "Your first lesson," Snape continued, "will not be easy. Occlumency is the art of defending your mind against unwelcome magical visitors who may," he looked at Harry sharply, "use it against you." Harry met Snape's eyes and held them until Snape turned his gaze to Hermione. "As I am sure you already know, it is a difficult skill but a useful one. I will not stand for lack of practice. If you do not, I will know. The skill used against Occlumency, Legilimency, brings forth memories and feelings from an opponent' mind. No one who is not trained in Occlumency has a defense against it. I will begin with you, Potter. Let's see how much you remember."

Harry stood and moved away from his chair to the centre of the room where a large Oriental rug had been placed. Hermione watched tensely as Snape faced him, wand drawn.

"Remember, Potter, you may use any defence you can think of against me. Now, clear your mind," Snape ordered. Harry closed his eyes in concentration. Snape raised his wand. "_Legilimens!_"

Harry grunted, his eyes screwing shut. He seemed to be struggling intensely with something. He raised his wand, arm shaking as if pressing against some unseen force.

"_Tarantalegra!_" Snape leapt aside as a dart of orange light shot past, hitting the wall and leaving a scorch mark on the grey stone. Harry stood up straight, gasping for breath, eyes now open. He glared at Snape as though challenging him.

"Better," Snape admitted grudgingly. "To whom did that sweatshirt belong?"

"My cousin Dudley. Sir," Harry spat. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Potter," he said warningly. "Now Miss Granger. Step forward. The incantation is 'Legilimens'. You may defend against me however you like, although I recommend clearing your mind to begin"

Hermione did as ordered. Taking a breath she schooled her mind blank, just as she had read she ought to do. She met Snape's eyes. She heard him say the spell and then felt something like a feather brushing against the surface of her mind. It pulled, trying to find something, anything. Hermione kept as much as she could away, trying to build a sort of mental barrier between her thoughts and this probe. She raised her wand automatically.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she cried. Snape jumped backwards as his wand flew through the air. "_Legilimens!_" Hermione continued. She was unprepared for the intensity of emotion she felt touch her mind. Anger that brought blood to her cheeks, a flashing image of a broken mirror, the figure reflected in it distorted beyond recognition. Glee that made her heart skip a beat as she watched a dark haired boy leap from his chair, shaking all over. A hint of sadness, a snatching touch of embarrassment, raised voices from far off, and then as if a door had been shut in her face, it stopped. Snape stood a few feet away, breathing heavily. A strand of hair had escaped from the tail at the nape of his neck. His eyes showed the barest hint of surprise.

"I see you have studied. This is certainly an improvement on Potter." His lip curled. "You may sit." Hermione hastened to do so, glancing apologetically at Harry, who shrugged. Harry's next match with Snape was short. He managed to get his wand up in time to shield himself from Snape's first attack, and fought off the second one in less time than before."

"Better. Miss Granger." Hermione stood and met Snape in the middle of the room. She raised her wand and met his eyes, mind already half-empty, but before she could close it completely, Snape attacked.

"_Legilimens!_" Hermione heard him cry, and then the feather-light touch was at her mind again, but meeting no resistance, drove through her thoughts. She was in a school courtyard, watching the other girls talking....in an alley as a dark figure advanced….in Transfiguration, triumphantly brandishing a needle….watching herself enter Charms….petting Crookshanks in her bedroom… Hermione fought against the force, pulling her thoughts away, controlling them. She focused on one thought, broadcasting it as if through a megaphone. _GO AWAY!!! _She raised her wand.

"_Protego!_" the memories stopped as Snape's wand shot away from him.

"Effective," he said, retrieving his wand. "You must be quicker, however, to gain control of your thoughts." He pocketed his wand. "That's enough. You may go."

…………

"Not bad back there, Harry," Hermione said. They were climbing a staircase making their way back to their rooms.

"I could say the same for you!" Harry laughed. "That was brilliant. He wasn't expecting that, you know."

"He was much more polite than usual," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Did you notice what he said about each of us? 'Better,' and 'Effective.' It wasn't very nice of you to spit at him like that, though. One would think you hated each other," Hermione said with a perfectly straight face. Harry gaped at her. Hermione laughed. "You thought I was serious! But honestly, Harry. He is really making an effort, I think."

"But he still thinks I'm lower than scum. And I know why," Harry stated glumly.

"It can't be as bad as all that," Hermione said comfortingly. "I know he and your dad weren't great pals-" Harry cut her off.

"Did I tell you what I saw in the penseive last year? Did I tell you what I saw?" Harry demanded, turning to face Hermione, who shook her head. "I saw my dad making fun of Snape. For no reason. Humiliating him completely just because he could. Sirius was there, laughing along, and Lupin made no move to stop any of it. Only my mum did." He stopped, breathing hard. Hermione swallowed.

"Oh."

"I know how that feels, Hermione. I know what kind of a person you have to be to _do_ that to some one. I think maybe everything Snape ever said about my dad was….right."

"Oh, Harry," was all Hermione could say. They stood in silence for a moment and then continued down the corridor together.

"You know," Hermione began tentatively some minutes later, "People change. Maybe your dad learned his lesson later. Maybe he even regretted what he did. Loads of Muggles do, I've read about it. I knew someone once who picked on me in grade school. She apologised later. Said she felt bad about it. Your dad would have to have had a conscience or your mum wouldn't have ever liked him at all."

"I hope so," Harry sighed and looked at her. "Tell me…do I strut?"

Hermione giggled. "What?"

"Just something Snape said once. He told me I strutted, just like my dad. After seeing that stuff last year, I'll believe that he did, but do I?"

"Of course not!" Hermione cried. "Don't be an ass." Her eyes went wide. She clapped a hand to her mouth. "Did I just say that?" Harry looked at her in surprise.

"You did. Else I'm going mad. Maybe Hogwarts is a bad influence on you, Hermione."

"No, it's just you and Ron," Hermione answered, and the two of them laughed the rest of the way to their rooms.

…………

"Hermione! Time for dinner! How are your feet, by the way?" Harry poked his head through the door between their rooms.

"Oh, just fine. That potion of Snape's worked a treat. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Come on."

They made their way down to the Great Hall where a large table was set with a brilliant magenta cloth and several candlesticks. Dumbledore sat at one end with Professor McGonagall at his right. Next to her was Professor Sprout, then Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Trelawney. On Dumbledore's left sat Professor Flitwick on a pile of books, then Hagrid, and then Professor Snape, looking quite uncomfortable. Two empty chairs sat waiting next to Snape.

"Ah! Harry, Miss Granger. Do come in." Dumbledore beckoned them to the table. Hagrid shot out of his chair, nearly overturning the table.

"'Arry! 'Ermione! Great ter see ya! How've you been?" He folded them into a warm hug, then shoved them into their seats. Hermione found herself closer to Snape than she would have liked.

"How was your first lesson of this year?" Dumbledore inquired pleasantly.

"Excellent, Professor," Hermione answered as Harry murmured "Fine." Snape's knuckles turned white as he gripped his juice goblet, forcing himself to sip from it.

"I do believe Severus has the right idea," Dumbledore announced. "Please, begin!" The bowls and platters on the tables immediately filled with roast beef and mashed potatoes. Buttered rolls as large as bludgers peeked from beneath a cloth-covered basket. Harry took on and cut it in half, offering part to Hermione. Steamed vegetables had appeared in one bowl and Hermione served herself before passing the dish to Professor Snape. He didn't look at all pleased to participate. Ignoring this, Hermione poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice, and with a delicate flick of her fork, managed to flip a piece of beef onto her plate. Satisfied with this, she watched amusedly as Harry spooned a large helping of potatoes onto his plate, adding to this an exorbitant pool of brown gravy. Hermione could see nothing of the plate beneath the food he'd piled on.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at her.

"I really don't understand how you do that," Hermione said. "You and Ron both. I am quite astounded you haven't ended up like Dudley!"

"It's the enforced fast thing Aunt Petunia does over the summer. You know, I'm really lucky to be here at Hogwarts. If I had to live with the Muggles all year round, I'd wither to nothing." On the other side of Hermione, Snape snorted into his pumpkin juice. Hermione stared at her professor, astonished for a moment, then resumed her conversation with Harry, who was in the process of enjoying his potatoes and gravy.

…………

Hermione had just climbed into bed and begun to relax when a thought sprang into her mind.

"Harry!" she cried, leaping back out of bed again. "Harry!"

"Yeah?" Harry asked, leaning through the door. "What is it? More beetles?"

"No. I just had a thought," Hermione said.

"Oh good," said Harry. "Keep it up!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, listen. Do you remember third year when Dumbledore told you your dad had saved Snape's life?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, "But Snape thinks that my dad only did that to save himself from being expelled."

"You told me and Ron about that," Hermione recalled, "but Harry, your dad was known for breaking rules, some of them quite dangerous. I don't think he would have been that upset to see Snape hurt if he really hated him, Harry. That means your dad _did_ have a conscience, after all. I think there's more to it than Snape lets on. As terrible as it is to be made fun of, there has to be more. I am certain of it."

"Maybe these Occlumency lessons will be good for something and you can find out what it is," Harry said yawning. "But thanks, Hermione. Really."

"Sure." Hermione returned the yawn and laughed sleepily. "Good night!"

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," Harry grinned. Hermione waited until he'd gone back to his room, then shut the door. In her bedroom, she climbed into bed once more and turned out the light, finally able to relax.

............

A/N: I am quite surprised....this is going better than I expected. I'm already halfway finished with chapter nine. More Occlumency and stuff. Harry and Hermione comparing notes on Snape's memories. Now look, you guys. If you are reading this for quick, hot Hermione/Severus action, stop reading. This story is more intent on building a friendship before they run into the whole carnal lust thing, okay? It will get there eventually, but honestly, would Hermione just rush right into Snape's bedroom for a romp without knowing him first? Not likely. She has issues to work out, and Snape, too. Character development is important to me, but believe me, I have already got some interesting scenes running in my head....make it stop! make it stop! :-) Have a great day! Happy reading!


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: This chapter is just a revised version of the original Chapter Nine with a bit of editing brought to you by my fab new beta, **Evan M.** applause. That's all!

**Changes Made**

**Chapter Nine**

"_Legilimens!_" A shadowed room illuminated only by a dying fire….a greasy-haired boy alone by a window….a lovely woman with bright green eyes and a mischievous smile…. It all stopped as Snape fought the spell away.

"Better," he said grudgingly. "Potter, your turn." Hermione sat, patting Harry consolingly on the arm as she passed. This lesson had not been going well for her friend. Harry had barely taken his "duel stance" when Snape shot the Legilimency spell at him. This time, however, it seemed that Harry's morning practice had not gone to waste. Snape struggled only a short time with Harry before their mind link was broken.

"You practiced," Snape remarked, gesturing Hermione to stand and come forward. Before her mind was fully cleared, Snape struck, producing memories from nowhere. She sat on the stairs listening to a party on the ground floor of her home….a young girl waved frantically as a bus pulled away from a stop….laughter from all sides as she fell on the playground….beetles covering the floor and her feet, crawling and biting… At this, Hermione found a fleeting urge to laugh. Shoving Snape's spell away, she raised her wand.

"_Legilimens!_" Now memories of a different sort filled her mind. A moon-swept evening, washed clean by recent rain….a candle flame, dancing atop an alabaster tower….a hook-nosed man bellowing at a cowering woman….a teenage boy being poked sharply in the back with a wand as others looked on, laughing….Hermione herself, relaxed in a chair, smiling…. This unnerved her. Hermione withdrew quickly, staring at Snape with wide eyes. He met her gaze and studied her for a moment before speaking.

"Well done. That's enough for today. You may go."

…………

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked incredulously. "He said, 'Well done.' Honestly!"

"I heard him," Hermione said without thinking. She and Harry made the familiar walk back from their Occlumency Lessons to their rooms.

"What did you see today when you got Snape with the spell?" Hermione asked.

"It didn't last very long. I got a bubbling cauldron and Mrs. Norris, I think. You?"

"Well, the first time, I got a dark room, Snape by a window, and then, I think it was your mum."

"My mum?" Harry asked, looking surprised. "Was she by herself?"

"Yes," Hermione answered.

Harry shrugged. "What else?"

"The second time, I got a sort of out-doorsy scene and a candle and a fight-"

"A fight?"

"Yeah, a hook-nosed man, and a frightened blond with stringy curls."

"I saw that last year!"

"I think I saw the famed Marauders, too," Hermione added thoughtfully.

"Doing what?" Harry asked, without excitement.

"Poking someone – Snape, I think – in the back with a wand. Not very nice. It might not have been them, though," she finished. "I didn't get a good look at their faces before it was gone." She left out the bit about seeing herself. "What kinds of things does he get from you?" she inquired with interest.

"Lots of stuff from Privet Drive," Harry answered. "My Aunt and Uncle and Dudley, of course. Some things from Hogwarts like you and Ron and some from the trials. A lot of really normal stuff. Practicing helped me shake him off, though. Thanks for your help. Do you think I could borrow that book?"

"Sure," Hermione answered. "And you might try that meditation stuff I told you about earlier. If you want, I can give you some yoga to try so you get used to moving at the same time."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. "He'll slaughter me otherwise. Actually," Harry continued, "he might not, considering how he acted today. He kept looking at you, you know. You must have really surprised him, or else there's something going on that I don't know about. He didn't pull anything really weird out of your head, did he? I mean, last year, he almost caught me kissing Cho, but I got away in time."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "There wasn't anything that I can think of….the alley was a little weird, but there wasn't enough of it to catch one's attention…"

"D'you mean Diagon Alley?" Harry asked. "What happened there?"

"No, it was an alley in London when I was six years old. I got lost amongst the rubbish bins and this drunk came down the alley. Lucky for me he was nice. He tried to pat me on the head and I started crying, but my parents found me before too long. It's sort of funny now," Hermione answered.

Harry cracked a smile. "I can imagine that." By this time, Harry and Hermione had reached their rooms, indicated in the corridor only by two niches in the wall. Hermione tapped the rightmost niche with her wand, revealing the door to her room. Harry followed suit with the leftmost niche and each entered their room. Hermione opened the door separating their rooms, letting Harry into her cozy, library-like foyer.

"Fancy a game of chess?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Harry. I have some studying to do. Plus practicing my Occlumency stuff. Let me get you that book." She disappeared into her bedroom and returned holding a medium-sized book bound in leather. "Here you are."

Harry took it. "Thanks. When do you need it back?"

"Whenever. I've got what I need from it for now. Don't spill anything on it, though, all right?"

"Right. I guess I ought to finish my summer homework." Harry smiled ruefully at hsi friend and left.

Hermione sighed and went back into her bedroom. She threw herself onto the soft bed, rolling over onto her back to stare at the ceiling. She couldn't get over the feeling that accompanied the image of herself as seen through Snape's eyes. It was like stepping from a cool room into bright sunshine – that unfamiliar, warm sensation that you feel from your scalp to your toes, Hermione decided. Harry's comment about Snape looking at her was evoking strange feelings in the pit of her stomach.

The logical part of Hermione's mind was sure that there was nothing to be thinking about at all. Harry was right, Snape had just been surprised at her abilities. The less reasonable part of her was convinced that there was more to it. Snape had always known Hermione was good at almost everything, so why should Occlumency surprise him? And that look in his eyes, first in the city, then in the Hospital Wing the day before. When he caught her eyes after she'd seen herself in his memory, Hermione had felt that she couldn't look away. She'd been completely transfixed by the depth she saw there. It was like she'd never really looked at him before, and thinking about it, Hermione realised that she hadn't. If she looked at Snape at all it had been during a lesson or whilst being scolded. When she'd seen Professor Snape that day in the street, she'd been looking at him as a man who had just pushed her from the path of a moving vehicle, not as a teacher or an enemy. In the hospital wing, she saw him as a teacher, but in a different way…as a teacher who cared, strange as it sounded.

And then, during the lesson, something changed. Maybe it was seeing herself, relaxed and comfortable. Happy. Maybe it was sharing something as intimate as personal memories with him, but Hermione couldn't help feeling that there was something important developing between Severus Snape and herself.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the library, Severus Snape was recovering from the day. He could not shake from his mind the feeling that something important was going to happen, or perhaps was happening, like there'd been some announcement he'd missed that everyone else knew about. Next to that, images of Hermione Granger kept popping up unexpectedly in his mind. Hermione Granger, of all people! A student at Hogwarts, of his no less. Snape couldn't have felt more embarrassed when Hermione had pulled the memory of the Hospital Wing earlier in the day from the recesses of his mind.

That was one of the things about Occlumency lessons he didn't appreciate – you could never tell what your students were going to pull out of your skull when you weren't expecting it. Surprisingly enough, that feeling had faded when her eyes met his. The expression there, shock mixed with curiosity, took his breath away. Or maybe it was the colour and intensity of her gaze – deep, velvety brown flecked with gold. As the shock in her eyes gave way to soft amusement and warmth, Snape had felt he could go on looking into those eyes for an eon, but the Potter boy shifting in his seat snapped him from the momentary reverie. That, he'd decided, had been enough, and he'd released his students.

Thinking about it now, Snape couldn't fathom the reactions, mental and physical, that passed over him every time Hermione Granger was in close proximity to himself. In the Infirmary that morning, he'd been delivering a batch of wart-removing potions to Madam Pomfrey when Potter and Hermione had entered, calling for Madam Pomfrey. The first things Snape noticed were Hermione's bare feet and the angry welts covering them. Her soft explanation of the beetles in her wardrobe would have been amusing at another time, but Snape could tell she was feeling pain, and that affected him oddly.

Without even thinking about it, he was off for the anti-venom in his office, and then back in the Hospital Wing. After dismissing Potter, he'd set about administering the potion to her tortured skin, his eyes irresistibly drawn upwards to see only an expression of intense relief and pleasure spread across her delicate features. Entranced, he'd continued to massage the potion into her skin, moving his fingers gently over her feet. It was strange how erotic a foot massage could sound, Snape thought with a touch of amusement. Very strange.

When Hermione left the Infirmary, she'd thanked him politely, smiling, and then nearly danced out the doors into the hallway beyond. This had left Snape feeling quite accomplished and rather pleased with himself. He hadn't felt that way for a very long time.

…………

At dinner that evening, Snape was well aware of his closeness to Hermione Granger. She and Harry held a light conversation about Quidditch, or rather, Harry talked about teams and Hermione listened. Hermione was good at listening, Snape decided, sipping his pumpkin juice. On his other side, Hagrid was eagerly discussing his lessons plans for the coming year with Dumbledore. His class subjects would range, it seemed, from Billywigs to Puffskeins and beyond. Professor McGonagall listened with interest as Professor Flitwick told her about the table he'd charmed to clean itself every twelve hours. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout were deep in conversation about the medical uses of Alihotsy leaves.

Next to him, Hermione shifted in her seat, moving her arm to grasp her goblet. Snape suddenly became aware of the fact that he could feel the heat from her skin next to his. He found that he didn't want to pull away.

............

A/N: Goody gumdrops. Another chapter! I think maybe Hermione's POV is easier to write because i identify better with teh mind of a teenage scholar than I do with a middle-aged Potions Master. :-) Thanks so much for all the reviews! I appreciate your patience, understanding, and suggestions. To a couple in particular I have responses.

**Kerichi: **Thanks a lot. Yes I am familiar with Hyacinth. She makes me laugh! I hope this bit of Snape's brain gives you what you're looking for. If not, write me, okay?

**duj:** For one thing, says who? :-) For another, this is Hermione's interpretation, not necessarily the truth.

Have a fab day!


	10. Chapter Ten

Changes Made

Chapter Ten

Hermione sat with her legs thrown over the arm of a very comfortable chair, scribbling busily in a notebook. Harry knocked on the door.

"Come in," Hermione called, without looking up.

"I'm finished with all of my homework," Harry announced. "Took me ages! What are you doing?" He crossed the room and peered over her shoulder at the notebook. Crookshanks appeared from behind a potted plant, purring and rubbing against Harry's ankles. Harry obligingly scratched him behind the ears.

"Writing down everything we've extracted from Snape's mind," Hermione told him. "Maybe I can find out more about him by piecing things together. I thought of it during lessons today. We've got quite a bit, even after only three days."

"Why would anyone want to know more about Snape?" Harry asked dubiously.

"For one thing, because it might help us figure out why he feels it necessary to be less than polite to you," Hermione answered, continuing to write. "Can you tell me more about the memory of that fight you saw? More detail?" Harry described it to her.

"Good, it matches with what I saw. Do you think Snape is the man yelling or the boy in the corner?" Hermione asked.

"Definitely the boy in the corner," Harry answered. "Did you write the one where he was in his room? He was zapping flies with his wand."

"Boys," Hermione said, making Harry laugh. A few lines later, Hermione declared that she had everything written down.

"You know," she said. "We haven't been to see Hagrid yet. Fancy a walk?"

Harry and Hermione trooped out of the castle onto the sunny grounds. The perfectly manicured lawns swept magnificently away from the castle to the forest, broken here and there by decorative trees. The lake rippled as a gentle breeze blew across it. A puff of smoke issued from Hagrid's chimney as they approached.

"What's he doing in there?" Harry wondered aloud. "You don't think it's another dragon, do you?"

"Harry, don't even joke," Hermione groaned. She knocked on the door, and Fang barked inside.

"Come in!" Hagrid grunted. Harry turned the handle, letting Hermione and himself through the door.

"Hullo, Hagrid," Harry said cheerfully.

"Nice to see you, Hagrid," Hermione echoed. "What are you doing?"

Hagrid straightened from his position bent over the fireplace.

"Oh, jes' cookin'," he answered. "Toadstool stew, Olympe's recipe. You ken try it, when I'm done," he offered.

"No thanks," Hermione said hastily. "Dinner won't be long. How's Olympe?"

"Top form," Hagrid answered. "Never been better."

"What have you been doing all summer?" Harry asked interestedly. "Anything for the Order?"

"Now, yeh know I'm not allowed to tell yeh, strictly speakin'," Hagrid said, leaning close, "An' I'm not going to," he finished moving back to the fire. "I 'ave been doin' some investigatin' fer Dumbledore, though." He reached a metal spoon into the pot, attempting to dip himself a taste. When he pulled the spoon out again, the bowl had collapsed, hanging off the stem like a wet leaf. "Mebbe it's too hot," Hagrid growled. He set the spoon on the table and sat down. "Now, how 'bout yerselves. What 'ave you been up to?"

"Not much," Harry answered. "Mostly just lying around at the Dursley's. They stay away from me now, without locking me in or anything. Aunt Petunia even smuggled me a bit of pocket money. She threatened to flay me if I told Uncle Vernon, though."

Hagrid chuckled. "I guess Dumbledore's warnin' scared her righ' well. 'Ow 'bout you, 'Ermione?"

"Homework, mostly. I did paint my room though, Gryffindor colours. And I did a load of shopping."

"An' 'ow's Crookshanks?"

"Doing well, still mucking about in the garden. He hasn't caught any rats lately, though, I think he was missing the excitement here. My parents bought me an owl, Griselda. She's really happy, too."

"Yeah, I think she brought me a letter," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "Pretty bird. Now I should tell yeh, this year's gon' ta be excitin'." He leaned over the table. "I've even got an Erumpet, but yer not to tell anyone abou' that."

"Hagrid, are you sure we can handle that?" Hermione asked doubtfully. "They're really dangerous when provoked, and you remember what happened last time we had a really big animal and Malfoy in the same pen."

"We'll be keepin' 'im far away from you all," Hagrid assured her. "Don' you worry. An' I do 'ave a couple o' less dangerous critters fer yeh, too. Jarveys and Malaclaws an' the like."

"Sounds great," Harry said.

"I also got a Runespore as a special treat. I thought yeh might like it, 'Arry." Hagrid turned back to the fire. Harry looked quizzically at Hermione, who mouthed that she'd tell him later. Hagrid produced another puff of smoke from his stew. The acrid scent made Hermione's eyes water. Fang struggled to his feet and barked twice before coming to lay his head on Hermione's lap, drooling all over the floor. Hagrid finally managed to get some stew into a bowl, which he set on the table.

"Are yeh sure yeh don' want some?" Hagrid offered again.

"Really Hagrid, thanks," Hermione said, standing. "It was great to see you. I'll be back soon."

"Yes, thanks, Hagrid. I look…er…forward to lessons." Harry said. Hermione bit back a smile. On the table, stew began to seep onto the table from the bottom of the bowl.

"Well, bye then. An' be careful!" Hagrid called as they left. Once they were safely outside, Hermione explained the Harry what a Runespore was.

"It's basically a three-headed snake. Each head serves a different purpose, and it's known to be a very vocal snake, and thus useful for, er, parselmouths, like yourself. You might enjoy it, Harry."

"Not if the rumours start up again," Harry said darkly.

"I bet Hagrid'll let you have a go at it alone," Hermione said cheerfully. "And did you know, it's also the only known species that produces its eggs through its mouth?"

"Fascinating," came Harry's dry response.

…………

Dinner in the Great Hall was pleasant. Hagrid's fingers were bandaged, probably wounds from the stew, but everything else was uneventful. Once again Hermione was seated next to the Potions professor, although he seemed to be growing less uncomfortable about it, Hermione thought. She was glad to have Harry's distracting chatter, however, which kept her from thinking too much about the clues she'd derived from Snape's memories.

After a lengthy game of chess with Harry, Hermione excused herself to bed. Crookshanks looked up from where he was curled on her bedspread, purring as she entered. Hermione lifted the notebook containing her collection of Snape's memories and leafed through it slowly. There was a good bit of information there! Still reading, she lay down on her stomach next to Crookshanks, who lashed his tail playfully over the book.

"Crookshanks," Hermione laughed, "cut it out!" She pushed his tail away and turned another page. Crookshanks lashed his tail again.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Hermione asked, looking at her cat. Crookshanks blinked.

"Dumb question," Hermione said, reaching out to scratch him behind the ears. "From what I have here, I think his teenage life was a lot like the cliched loners in Muggle soap operas," Hermione told Crookshanks, who was, by all appearances, listening. "His parents fought when he was younger, abusive dad, it looks like, he was lonely all the time, picked on by more attractive people, and ended up falling into the wrong crowd. Actually, it's sort of predictable. Just look at him! It's obvious he's had a pretty rotten life…I wonder if anyone ever tried to change that," she mused. Crookshanks purred even louder. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Hold on, Crookshanks. I need to look something up."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape stood outside the castle, listening to the wind as it rustled the trees in the forest across the grounds. He walked slowly next to the cool stone wall, thinking. It was strange, he mused, how hard he found it to fight Hermione away during Occlumency lessons. For her, they were more like Legilimency lessons. That morning, she'd pulled from his mind no less than four memories of his miserable childhood, three from Hogwarts, and another of Lily Evans.

He wondered what she thought of him. Not pity, he hoped fervently. He couldn't stand being pitied. She never radiated anything but a young, scholarly air of attention during lessons… and in the Hospital Wing? That didn't count. She'd been injured and grateful for his prompt and effective treatment. What did he want her to think of him, Snape wondered. Why did it matter? What could he possibly care about the feelings of a sixteen-year-old girl?

But for some reason, he did care. He wanted Hermione to think well of him, to find some redeeming quality in his nature. He'd never been kind to her in the past. In fact, some days he'd been downright rotten to her for no particular reason. Or at least, he corrected himself, for reasons not pertaining to her. If she put the pieces together, which Snape was certain she would, what would she think of him?

It wasn't her temperament to assume the obvious immediately, Snape knew. She appreciated the refined skills it took to be truly good at magic and potion making, or at least she appreciated the good marks and recognition. That much he'd seen in class and heard from the other teachers. She cared a great deal about her friends, few as they were - anyone could see that. She often visited Hagrid; he'd observed her on several occasions making her way across the grounds to his home. And she was very, very clever. Her keen intelligence and logic were what made her such an outstanding student. Others were smart, but Hermione's ability to comprehend situations ahead of anyone else marked her immediately as special. There was something in her eyes that gave that away.

And that was another thing about Hermione, Snape thought. She wore her emotions like a neon sign. If she was having a bad day, you knew. If she was pleased with herself, it showed. If she was in pain, Snape thought with a twinge, you could feel it. It was all there. Maybe that was part of what attracted him so much, how unlike himself she was.

And yet, only parts of her were really different. The memories he'd seen included several of a younger Hermione, always alone. She watched as the other girls at school laughed and played together, watched as groups of them trooped by together on the sidewalk as she worked unceasingly on homework. Hermione was certainly better at distracting herself from that than he was, he decided. She drowned herself in studying. Or perhaps that was just the way Hermione was, never happy unless she was learning something new.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. A gust of wind blew stray hair across his face. Snape decided it was time to go inside.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A tap at her window woke Hermione the next morning. She opened her eyes sleepily to find herself staring Crookshanks in the face. With a groan, she rolled out of bed and stumbled over to the window. When she opened it, Griselda flew in, carrying a letter and small parcel tied to her leg. She waited just long enough for Hermione to untie her burden before gliding across the room to her open cage, and more importantly, her water bowl. It was a message from her parents.

Dear Hermione,

I hope you got to school in one piece. What happened to owling me when you got there?

Oops, thought Hermione.

Anyway, I want you to know I'm not angry about what you did to your bedroom. At least we'll have something to talk about, right? I've sent you one of your favourite board games, although I suspect you'll have to teach your friends how to play. Study hard, dear.

Love,

Mum

P.S. The chocolate frogs are from your father. He thought you might need some "brain food."

Hermione unwrapped the parcel. Inside, she found a travel sized Scrabble game and a pair of chocolate frogs. She smiled, touched. The note of thanks would have to wait, however, because Griselda was obviously tired, and Hermione's stomach was loudly demanding nourishment. She dressed quickly in one of her favourite new outfits, and feeling bold, made her way to the Great Hall.

"Wow, Hermione," Harry said, looking her up and down. "Is that new?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, sitting down. "It is. Do you like it?"

"No," Harry answered, looking at her again. Stung, Hermione frowned.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"Nothing!" Harry laughed. "That's the problem!"

Hermione grinned. Of course. She looked down at herself. Tight black pants and a close fitting, plunge-neck shirt of deep red. And then there were the outrageous pumps she'd bought on instinct. With her hair loose – smooth instead of bushy, thanks to one of Gilderoy Lockhart's Super-Conditioning Potions – she really looked good.

"Then I'll take that as a compliment." As she spoke, a Belgian waffle appeared on her plate. "Ooh, yummy," said Hermione, attention diverted. Harry looked on in amazement as she polished off her breakfast.

"And you go on at me about my eating habits," he joked, sipping his juice.

"I want some tea," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Steaming hot with honey." Then her eyes widened. She knew what that meant.

..............

"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione called, walking through the open infirmary doors.

"She's with Professor Sprout again, Miss Granger," said a voice.

Hermione froze. Professor Snape appeared from around a corner.

"Is there something you need?"

Hermione coloured furiously. There was no way she was going to tell this man about her personal problems… Snape caught sight of her face and sighed.

"Out with it, girl. Do you need an anti-cramp potion or just one for general PMS?" Hermione gasped. How had he guessed? Was he reading her mind? She gulped when she remembered that he _could_.

"H-how did you-"

"That brilliant shade of chartreuse you turned when inquired after your needs pretty much gave it away."

I really need to work on that, Hermione thought dully.

Snape dug through a cabinet and pulled out two bottles, one with green liquid, one with blue. "Take one." He set them on a table and returned to whatever he'd been doing out of sight. Hermione eased over to the table and read the "Reasons for taking this potion" tag. She chose the green potion for general discomfort and irritability.

"Thank you," she called, ever polite, and legged it down the hall. She stopped to catch her breath on the second floor. As she sagged against the wall, her mind was arguing with itself again.

I can't believe that just happened, thought part of her mind. _There is no way he just found out-_ _Shut up!_ screamed the other, more reasonable half. _Get _over_ yourself! He's just a Potions Master doing his job. He doesn't care._ The less logical part of her mind sqeuaked once in protest and relented. The potion kicked in. Hermione sighed and relaxed. That was better.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape waited in his quarters for his students to arrive. He was busy remembering the outfit Hermione had traipsed into the Hospital Wing wearing. Actually, he hadn't _stopped_ remembering it since she'd fairly run from the room. The way that deep red set off her creamy skin was unbelievable. And those pants…he couldn't help but notice how well they fit…

Why you dirty old man! cried part of his mind. _She's well over fifteen years your junior!_ But that hair tumbling down her back was something to be reckoned with. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it… Now _that_ was enough. It was cute how she'd blushed, though. Like he'd never helped with "feminine complaints" before. Like he hadn't brewed the damn potion! Snape smiled to himself. Very cute. Innocent. He straightened. Too innocent. A knock came at the door. Time for lessons.

............

A/N: Hello once more. So, short sentences this time...that's just sort of the way it came out. Thanks again to my fab beta, **Evan M.** And thanks for all the reviews you guys! I assure you, **Aindel S. Druida**, that this isn't going to be the typical Snape-loved-Lily things. It crossed my mind, but it isn' the soppy Hermione-reminds-him-of-Lily thing. Ick. That's just weird, plus it totally takes away from Hermione's value as a love interest. :-) We can't have that now can we?

I'm playing steamy scenes in my head, much to my own amusement....however, it might not be so amusing on paper. Sigh. I have no practice, and (teehee) no experience, so how am I supposed to write a good one? Sort of paste together a bunch of romance novels, I guess, but it would be cool to have some fresh analogies, no? Maybe that'll have to wait a few years. Or decades, depending. ;-)

Oh, and for you fab SS/HG tale lovers who haven't heard already, check out sycophanthex -dot- com and click on Ashwinder. Entirely SS/HG fics! Yay! And they're all good because you can only publish stuff based on how well it's written.

M'Kay, that's enough. Laters!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Changes Made  
  
Chapter Eleven**  
  
Hermione sat, clearing her mind as Professor Snape finished his first round with Harry. When she opened her eyes, Hermione could tell that Harry had done well by his flushed expression and sparkling eyes. He'd just scored a good memory. She stood and, holding on to that empty feeling in her mind, stepped forward to face her teacher. Snape raised his wand, but Hermione was faster, shooting two spells at him in succession.  
  
"_Expelliarmus! Legilimens!_" she cried. A flood of memories rolled by her mind's eye. Childhood, she thought, focusing on the image of Snape as a boy. Come on…Childhood. A few of the memories drained away, leaving several to drift past more slowly. Hermione observed a small, dark-haired child watching his father get into his car and drive away as his mother cried beside him……the same dark-haired child lay in bed, recovering from a blistering sunburn……a puppy leapt about a garden, barking as the dark-haired child chased him……the dark-haired child sobbed as his mother lowered something into a hole, dropping flowers in on top of it…. Snape fought her spell away and stood, eyeing Hermione coldly.   
  
"You may sit," he said. Hermione did as instructed, raising her eyebrows at Harry as she passed. Harry looked curiously at her, standing to take his place before Professor Snape. Snape shot the Legilimency spell at Harry before Harry could even begin to raise his wand. Harry stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance and shouldered the spell off. Snape looked surprised, but beckoned Hermione forward all the same. This time, Hermione used a different tactic.  
  
When Snape sent the spell at her, Hermione had cleared her mind of all thoughts except those of her pre-Hogwarts days. She let him sift through those for several moments before pushing him away. Satisfied, she met his gaze without blinking until he dismissed she and Harry from the room. In the hallway, Harry turned to her and grinned.  
  
"Did you see that? The stuff you told me about really works, and so does that book."  
  
"I'm glad," Hermione said, her mind elsewhere.  
  
"Hey Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked with concern.  
  
"Just thinking," she replied.  
  
"What made Snape so angry with you? I thought you might pass out from blood loss the way he was shooting daggers. Did you see anything important?"  
  
"No, I just requested memories of his childhood, which he didn't seem to appreciate reliving. The second time I gave him some of mine, though, and he didn't seem as mad," Hermione explained.  
  
Harry shuddered. "I would never voluntarily give Snape memories of mine," he said firmly. "That's just weird."  
  
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "But you would never have a reason."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Harry, why did you look so smug the first time? What did you see?"  
  
"I got a conversation with Dumbledore. One with Order business in it." Hermione gasped.  
  
"Oh no, Harry! That's dangerous. Voldemort could get it by accident… you should tell Dumbledore right away!"  
  
"I knew you'd say that," Harry replied.  
  
"Come on," Hermione ordered, grabbing his arm.  
  
…………  
  
They reached Dumbledore's office just as Professor McGonagall was leaving.  
  
"Professor," Hermione called. Professor McGonagall looked up expectantly.  
  
"Yes, Miss Granger?"  
  
"We need to see Professor Dumbledore. It's important," Hermione said firmly. Professor McGonagall looked curious, but asked no questions.  
  
"Fizzing Whizbee," she said to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. It promptly sprang aside. Harry and Hermione jostled forward.  
  
"Fix your hair," the gargoyle grunted at Harry, causing him to jump. "You're going to see the Headmaster."  
  
"Thanks, Professor," Hermione said gratefully. Professor McGonagall inclined her head. Hermione was sure she'd seen a tiny smile there too, but the stairway began to move upwards before she could be sure. In no time they'd reached Dumbledore's door. Harry knocked.  
  
"Come in," they heard Dumbledore call, and they did. Dumbledore stood before an open glass cabinet, dust cloth in hand. "Ah," he said, "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I've been expecting you. I'm glad you came."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.  
  
"Why have I been expecting you or why am I glad you came?" Dumbledore asked. "Either way, I shall answer both. I have been expecting you because Professor Snape flooed me a message not moments ago stating that you had accidentally got hold of a conversation he and I had several weeks before you arrived here. I'm glad you came because it means you are taking responsibility for this kind of occurrence, and because it means you trust me enough to take you seriously. Please, sit down and tell me what happened."  
  
"I just did the spell like I was supposed to, Professor, and that's what came up. It was you and Sn-" he caught himself. "Professor Snape talking here. He asked if there was anything new from Headquarters, you answered that no there wasn't but the Ministry was in an uproar, there was something about his Mark, he said Voldemort was being careful, and then you asked if Professor Snape had found a way to locate his Soulstone. He said no and you said that maybe he should work on a lesson plan. Then he left." Hermione stiffened in her seat. Harry didn't notice.  
  
"Yes, that is about the gist of it," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Hermione thought it might be dangerous for Voldemort to find that should he take a random fancy to pick my brain," Harry said dryly. "So we're here."  
  
"And a very good thing, too. She's right. Do you know what a Soulstone is, Harry?" Harry shook his head. "Miss Granger?"  
  
"Yes, Professor." Dumbledore gestured that she should continue. "A Soulstone is the highly complicated result of a special spell that places the entire soul or part of a soul into a stone of some sort. Precious Gemstones are the most receptive to this spell, however it had been recorded that quartz and marble may be used with success. The Soulstone spell is only used if a wizard wishes to give himself a state of immortality, and if the wizard makes a mistake or the spell goes wrong, he is immediately killed. Part of the spell enables the wizard to live normally even though his soul is not present in the body, and if the body is killed, the soul remains trapped in the stone until it is released or used to create another form for it to live in. If Voldemort has a Soulstone, he may not be completely vanquished until his Soulstone is found and destroyed. If his Soulstone is destroyed, he will die. The only other wizard known to have successfully used this spell in the last five centuries was the dark wizard Grindelwald, in the mid-1940s."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Very good, Miss Granger." He turned to Harry. "As you can see, Harry, it is vitally important that we locate the Soulstone. Fortunately for us, Voldemort doesn't know that we know he has one. If he were to find this particular conversation, however…"  
  
"Right," Harry said. "So what do I do?"  
  
"I happen to have a particular dish," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "That you happen to have some experience with." He stood and moved around his desk to the cabinet next to Harry. He tapped the lock with his wand, opening the cabinet. From the middle shelf, Dumbledore carefully pulled a bowl filled with swirling silvery mist. Hermione's eyes widened.   
  
"Now Harry," Dumbledore continued, setting the bowl on his desk. "Come over here." Harry did as instructed. "I want you to focus on that conversation. Remember every detail of it." Harry shut his eyes and concentrated. "Raise your wand and touch it to your temple…And pull it out. Now open your eyes and drop the thought into the Penseive. Very good! Now can you remember any conversation between Professor Snape and myself?"  
  
"No!" Harry exclaimed in wonder. "I know I could a moment ago, but it isn't there!"  
  
"How did it feel," Dumbledore asked, smiling.  
  
"Peculiar," Harry answered. "It was like something just slid out of my head where my wand touched it. And then it was gone!"  
  
"I suggest that you two go find yourselves a spot of lunch," Dumbledore said cheerfully, looking at Harry and Hermione over his spectacles. "And relax this afternoon."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said.  
  
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, standing.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied. Harry held the door for Hermione, and they left.   
  
.......................................................................................................................................  
  
Snape was once again furious with himself. Why hadn't he fought her away? All of his training went completely against this new policy of just letting Hermione Granger waltz into his mind and demand whatever she wanted. Today, it had been memories of his childhood. What did she want with them? At first Snape had been stunned, then angry. He barely noticed when Harry blasted Potter dug up a private conversation he'd forgotten about. Facing Hermione again, Snape had been apprehensive and on his guard. What would she do this time? He'd been completely blown away when she'd just stood there, offering him whatever he liked from the inner corners of her mind, offering exactly what she'd taken from him.   
  
And like some sort of brainless troll, he'd done exactly as she did, taking memories of her childhood away to examine privately. Fury ebbing away, he recalled what he'd seen in Hermione's mind. The graceful, careful moves of a seven-year-old ballerina, a blue and green parakeet, and a girl planting marigolds tenderly in the back garden. An alcoholic uncle appeared in several memories, as did Hermione's mother's appreciation for Martha Stewart magazines and dinner parties. Snape found that Hermione's keen intelligence was already on display at age four as her father had her read aloud to his friends. At least they managed some semblance of the fabled 'domestic bliss,' Snape mused. It was far from perfect, but it could have been much worse, he thought darkly. It could have been like his.  
  
Forcing those thoughts away, Snape stood and wandered over to the nearest bookshelf. From it he slid a gilded volume concerning the Goblin Wars. Opening it, he read the first page. Professor Binns could have written it, Snape decided, and put it back on the shelf. He chose another book at random: _How To Lose Your Mind in 10 Days_. This was not something he particularly wanted to do. Snape moved to the Restricted Section. Unlike the students, he didn't require permission to enter. Now this was where he found the interesting subjects.

He walked down a narrow aisle between shelves, careful not to touch any of the books. There were a few books more than well equipped to protect themselves...from everything. At the end of the row, he turned automatically to the right, looking for his favourite of the potion books: _Moste Potente Potions_. His eyes caught the title in its familiar place. Snape pulled the book from the shelf and opened it, relishing the scent of old paper and ancient ink. This book always cheered him up. Dusty tome in hand, Snape left the Restricted Section and strode to the front desk.  
  
"Madam Pince," he said quietly, "I'm taking my usual." Madam Pince nodded without looking up. Snape exited the library and made his way to his classroom.  
  
............  
  
Two hours later, Snape stood before a bubbling cauldron. Silvery mist hovered over the liquid, pouring down the sides of the cauldron to coil beneath it. Snape dipped a ladle carefully into the poisonous-looking green liquid, dipping some out to examine it. No lumps, not a hint of cloudiness or sludge. It was, in a word, perfect, and Snape was more than satisfied. Yes! He still had it. He removed the cauldron from the fire and fetched an enormous storage jar from a cabinet in the rear of the room. He dipped the entire potion out into the jar, revelling in it's smooth green-ness. He labelled the jar with a wave of his wand, _Serpentius Transmogrificatum_. This truly made him happy. If only he wasn't so good at it! There was much that another teacher couldn't tell his students about the Dark Arts, how real they were, how dangerous, how to truly defend themselves against them. Snape shivered, the warmth of a perfect potion gone.   
  
He'd experienced a lot in the time between his fifth year of Hogwarts and the time at which he returned to the side of light. He was glad that many of those memories rested in the Penseive. He didn't want them at all, really, but at times they came in useful. There was much there that he'd rather forget, that he'd rather have disappear rather than return to haunt his nightmares. Things he would never allow Hermione to see, glowing brown eyes or not.  
  
................................................................................................................................................  
  
Hermione was once again scribbling busily in her notebook. The new information she'd gathered from Professor Snape proved quite supplemental to her existing notes. The picture that she held in her mind of Severus Snape as a young boy grew more detailed with every memory she received. She'd spent an hour already imagining his life, making up stories about him and playing them like little films inside her head.   
  
It had been amusing, she thought, the horrible affronted expression on his face after her first quest inside his mind. Poor Harry! He'd born the brunt of Snape's anger at her unprecedented actions. Then the way the anger had melted away from his strong features as she met his eyes, offering him her own memories in return for what she'd taken. Would he have given them freely to her had she asked? Hermione didn't think so. Her way was much more practical to her own wishes. _Manipulative little cow_, snickered her mind. Hermione smiled.   
  
Crookshanks trickled into the room, rubbing on furniture and purring once more. He leapt into Hermione's lap and curled up. Hermione cuddled him for a quarter of an hour before lifting her pet down onto the floor and going over to knock on the door between her and Harry's rooms.  
  
"Harry," she called. He called for her to come in. Hermione opened the door and ducked as something small, round, and feathered flew past her head.  
  
"Pig," Harry cried. "Stop that!" Pigwidgeon ignored him. Harry laughed as Hermione ducked again, lower this time as Ron Weasley's owl hurtled through the air. Harry was hovering fifteen feet in the air, supported by his Firebolt and reading a letter from his friend.  
  
"Ron says his mum is going crazy trying to get he and Ginny ready for school. She hasn't been able to convince the twins to come back here…she's tried everything, but they're already set up in Diagon Alley. He says the Chudley Cannons lost again, but not so badly as last match, and he can't wait to see us. Hey, do you suppose we could meet him on the platform in Hogsmeade? And Ginny, too."  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Why not? Do you want to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon? Like, now? It's not raining any longer."   
  
"Sure," Harry lowered himself to the ground, leaning forward on his glossy broomstick.  
  
"How is it, Harry," Hermione wondered aloud, "that you can keep your broomstick in top condition, but your wand is covered in fingerprints and smudges?" Harry grinned sheepishly at her and leaned his broomstick against the wall.   
  
"I'll meet you at Professor McGonagall's office," Hermione offered. "Go change." Harry disappeared into his bedroom, and Hermione ventured down the hallways to her head-of-house's office. She knocked.  
  
"Come in," she heard Professor McGonagall call.  
  
"Hello, Professor," Hermione entered the room and sat down.  
  
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said welcomingly. "I trust that the Headmaster took care of everything this morning?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Hermione answered politely.  
  
"Biscuit?" Professor McGonagall offered her a tin.  
  
"No thanks. Harry and I were just about to go to Hogmeade for a bit. Last minute shopping and all that."  
  
"Of course," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Be back by six o'clock."   
  
Harry leaned through the open door. "Hello, Professor. Are you coming, Hermione?"  
  
…………  
  
I made it up. It gives a witch or wizard cetain qualities of a snake…not comfortable to take, however, and highly dangerous. And potente.  
  
…………

A/N: Another chapter. This one was difficult....I rewrote Snape's bit about four times. Thanks to my uber-fab beta, **Aindel S. Druida**, this chapter is much better than it was. Everybody needs a beta!! If you guys are noticing odd things about Snape's childhood, I promise there's probably an answer....but let me know what you think anyway. Thanks so much for the reviews! I find them helpful and encouraging, even the more scorch-y ones. :-) Have a quadruple fab day, this time. Laters!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Changes Made  
  
Chapter Twelve**  
  
Harry and Hermione sipped foamy butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. Around them, witches and wizards held quiet (or in several cases, rowdy) conversation. They sat enjoying the noise after the constant quiet of Hogwarts castle without students. Then Hermione broke the reverie with a question.  
  
"Have you finished your school shopping?"  
  
Harry stared at her. "Um...yeah, Hermione. I usually do it all before I'm at Hogwarts. Is this a new thing for you?"  
  
"Sorry, Harry. I'm just trying to make conversation. Quidditch is pretty well talked out. I know you're not really one for music...Have you read anything interesting lately?"  
  
"_Quidditch Through the Ages_ for the millionth time." Harry grinned as Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Is that all you think about?"  
  
"Not all," Harry said, eyeing a well-dressed witch who'd just entered the pub.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Have you practised your Occlumency today?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I did a bit of yoga and some meditation...which turned into a really restful nap." He grinned sheepishly at his friend. "I've actually been sleeping much better since I read that book..."  
  
"And much more, I expect," Hermione joked.  
  
"When are we going to practice doing this stuff without wands?" Harry wondered aloud. "It's not like I can use my wand when Moldy Voldy pokes through my brain from hundreds of miles away."  
  
Hermione laughed at the nickname. "I hope he isn't listening right now. I don't know. Do you think Snape's planned for it?" she asked. Then before Harry could respond, she answered herself. "Actually, he probably has. He's really quite clever," she said thoughtfully.  
  
Harry gaped. "You can't mean you admire him?"   
  
"A bit," Hermione said, sipping her butterbeer. Harry looked troubled. "Oh come on, Harry. He's not all bad. You remember how pleasant he was being earlier this week. Besides, he had a tough childhood."  
  
"Some excuse," Harry huffed.  
  
Hermione smiled a little. "I know," she said. "But there's something strange about him..."  
  
"Maybe the fact that he used to parade around in a black robe with a skull branded into his arm," Harry grumbled.  
  
"I don't think that's it," Hermione said, deliberately ignoring Harry's meaning.  
  
"Hermione, are you sure you're all right?" Harry looked concerned. "You seem sort of detached."  
  
"No, I'm fine," she finished her drink. "What do you say we have a look round at the shops?"  
  
"Sure," Harry swallowed the last of his butterbeer and stood. He held the door for Hermione as they left, delayed by the five or six people who filed out after her. Hermione laughed at him.  
  
"How many of them said thanks?" she asked.  
  
"Zero," said Harry. "I didn't mean to hold a parade. Where to?"  
  
They began with the stationary shop. Hermione purchased a bundle of parchment and three new quills.  
  
"Didn't you go shopping already?" Harry inquired.  
  
"I decided I need some more," Hermione explained, walking to the counter. "Are you getting anything?"  
  
Harry decided on a bottle of mood-sensing ink. The colour adjusted to your mood, he explained to Hermione as they left the shop.  
  
"Are you sure that's wise?" Hermione asked. "Is there a colour for bored? When you do your homework, there'll be no avoiding it!"  
  
Next came Zonko's. One entire corner was devoted to _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, products designed by Fred and George.  
  
"Wow," Hermione said, impressed. "They are doing well!" Harry picked up several dungbombs, but put them down when Hermione glared at him.   
  
"A few fireworks?" he pleaded. Hermione shook her head. Harry bought a few while her back was turned.  
  
They paused in the Owl Post Office to admire the birds, then the Apothecary to examine the piles of beetles' eyes and jars of powdered dragons' blood. Hermione oohed over the tiny bundles of unicorn's hair.  
  
"That's really useful in potions, Harry. Do you think I should get some?" Without waiting for an answer, She bought a bundle (seven sickles) and had it wrapped in brown paper. Out in the street, someone set off a firework. A passing wizard blasted it with his wand, causing it to break into several tinier fireworks. Harry grinned.  
  
"Remember when Umbridge tried that? Boy am I glad she's gone."  
  
"Is that scar on your hand still there?" Hermione asked curiously. Harry held it out to her. Faintly she saw the words I will not tell lies etched in pearly scar tissue into his hand. "They have stuff that will take that off," she told him. "It's not caused by a direct curse or hex, so it's easily removed."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No," he said, "I want to keep it." Hermione shrugged. By that time the fireworks had over the roofs of Hogsmeade. Harry and Hermione continued up the main cobbled street to the Shrieking Shack, still uninhabited. They leaned against the fence, staring up at the old house.  
  
"I miss him," Harry said after a moment. "Both of them, actually. I haven't seen Lupin in months, and Sirius…" he trailed off.  
  
"Me too," Hermione said. They were quiet again.  
  
"I wonder who's taking care of Buckbeak," Hermione said speculatively.  
  
"Probably Lupin," Harry guessed.  
  
"Do you think Mrs. Weasley has let the twins join?"  
  
"I don't see how she could stop them," Harry said with a snort. "They'd find out everything anyway, one way or another."  
  
Hermione agreed. She glanced down at her watch. "Harry, we'd better go. It's half past five and Professor McGonagall told us to be back by six." Reluctantly, they made their way back to Hogwarts Castle.  
  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
At dinner, Severus Snape was once again seated next to Hermione Granger. Just a student, he reminded himself again. It was the third time since the meal began he'd had to do that. He tried to relax. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall shared stories about Transfiguration Class.  
  
"I think the most amusing thing anyone ever did in my class," Dumbledore said, "was when one of the Ravenclaw students misspoke a spell and only half-transfigured their badger. It had the ears of an elephant and the head of a badger, with the body and tail of what appeared to be a lobster. Very interesting species cross. It took an hour before I managed to return it to its original shape. The Hufflepuffs were quite displeased, but it was the most spectacular example of what not to do I've never forgotten it."  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled. Snape studied her, pretending to be focused on his spinach salad. It was amazing how severe she could be one moment and the next appear so cheerful. Her students really looked up to her with respect and trust… All he could hope for was the respect that came with fear, and of course the sucking-up at which Slytherin students were so practised. Especially Malfoy. He took after his father that way, except Draco was less 'diplomatic'.  
  
It was a pity, Snape thought, that he couldn't give the boy detention without his father getting involved. McGonagall could, Dumbledore could, but Snape couldn't without making Lucius angry. Little bastard.   
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance at his other side. Next to him, Hermione gasped and rocked to the side. Harry's wand had jarred strangely in his pocket and was sending steaming blue liquid all over the floor and the side of Hermione's robes. Harry hastened to fix his wand.  
  
"_Finite Incantatum!_" he cried. The flow of liquid was staunched. Hermione pulled out her own wand.  
  
"_Scourgify!_" The liquid vanished from her robes and the floor. "Do be careful, Harry," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. Snape hadn't quite recovered from the feeling of her form against his. Slightly stunned, drank deeply from his goblet, heart racing.   
  
For Merlin's sake, he thought, You're acting like a lovesick teenager. Hermione straightened next to him. You had to hand it to her, he mused. She acted quickly without a load of squawking like most girls her age were apt to do. And her spells didn't foul up halfway through. Hermione was a very good witch.  
  
…………  
  
In his quarters, Snape relaxed on his couch, music playing softly in the background. He reflected on the Occlumency lessons. So far, they'd gone well. Aside from the surprise Hermione had given him that morning, things were going much better than expected. Harry had shown great improvement since the last time they'd practised. It was obvious that Dumbledore had been correct about Hermione's projected influence. Hermione was doing excellently; Snape didn't know why he hadn't expected her to be doing so well. Soon, it would be time to practice Occlumency without use of wands, a much more difficult task.  
  
Snape was considering shifting position on the couch where he lay, but froze as he heard the doorknob rattle. Someone was entering his room. He watched as the door inched open and someone with long, brown hair put their head in and looked around. He knew that hair. He'd stared at it only hours before. Hermione Granger took a step forward. She hadn't seen him yet, and he decided to keep it that way for a while. He watched as she crept forward to the table where his music-emitting globe rested and extended her slender hand to pick up a book Snape had found in his quarter's after the day's lesson. He waited until her hand was firmly around it before saying he spoke.  
  
"Is breaking and entering a habit of yours, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione jumped about a foot into the air, knocking the book to the floor. She flushed furiously as she realised who was lying on the couch.  
  
"N-no, sir," she stammered, "I just left my book here this morning and wanted to get it back..." she trailed away looking apprehensive. Her surprise was evident when his lips curved into an involuntary smile. She looked so bewildered, Snape thought. What did she think he was going to do?  
  
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock first?" he asked.  
  
"I didn't think there was anyone in here," Hermione tried to explain.  
  
"And why shouldn't I be in my own quarters?" Snape asked, eyebrows raised. He watched amusedly as Hermione's eyes widened.  
  
"These are your… I though this was just a classroom! Oh no, Professor! I apologise. I'm really sorry! I-"  
  
Snape cut her off. He'd never seen her so flustered...it was quite unlike Hermione. "Think nothing of it," he said, "But please remove the book from the floor." Hermione hastened to do as he asked. "Is there anything else you forgot?" he inquired pleasantly.  
  
"No, sir," Hermione answered, straightening. She seemed to be recovering.  
  
"Then you may go," Snape directed, thoroughly enjoying her stunned surprise. It seemed as though Hermione was fighting to keep her mouth shut. Without another word she left the room.   
  
_ Poor Hermione_, Snape thought, and rolled over to face the fire.

............

**A/N:** Last chapter before I depart for Myrtle Beach! We're leaving at 9. Good thing I'm already packed! Thanks to my betas, **Aindel S. Druida** and **Kerichi** for their patience and all. Unfortunately, as my sister isn't very well versed in the ways of fanfic, the next chapters won't be beta-d till I get back. I promise to reload! Have a fab week, I should say! Laters!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

****

Changes Made

****

Chapter Thirteen

Hermione was mortified. She'd walked right into Snape's rooms without even pausing to think about why the lights might be on. It had never occurred to her that the room might belong to someone. It didn't even look like a real classroom in the first place! This was a serious lack of judgement. Her father would be apalled.

In the meantime, Hermione's heart was racing. Snape had smiled! He'd actually shown emotion other than a sneer, curled lip, or a raised eyebrow. This was monumental! As was the way his face changed when he smiled. It was astonishing. He was practically handsome, Hermione mused. Why had he been smiling, though? Hermione didn't see anything funny in the situation. She was surprised that she hadn't been stuck with three weeks of detention for it! Something was happening that she was keen to be in on.

In her rooms, Hermione tried to calm down. Crookshanks looked up from his position on her bed when she entered her bedroom and caught her eye. He blinked knowingly. Hermione stared. Surely her cat had no grasp of the situation....

This was too much. Hermione sank onto the bed and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. There had to be a perfectly logical explanation for the reason her heart was still pounding. There had to be a reason for the electric sensations that had spiralled through her at dinner when she'd accidentally leaned into Snape when Harry's wand fouled up. He was only her Potions Professor... That was all! But she couldn't help noticing just how attractive he became when he smiled.

__

No, she thought firmly. Her attraction to him _had _to be purely intellectual. That was all, Hermione decided. Maybe she could get him talking about something. For a moment, she fantasised that they might become friends, spending long, fascinating hours discussing spells and potions and totally non-school related things... And then she stopped herself. She needed to sleep it off.

............

It didn't work. When Hermione woke the next morning, she barely noticed the rain outside her window. All she could think about was Professor Snape's smile. This couldn't be happening! _Purely intellectual_, she told herself firmly, and rolled out of bed. At breakfast, she spoke little. Griselda flew in from the rain, soaring beneath the cloud-covered ceiling to the table. She dropped a note delicately onto the table at Hermione's elbow and rather gracefully hopped forward to nibble a bit of bacon from Hermione's plate. Hermione unfolded the note.

__

Hermione,

__

Why don't you and Harry come for tea around four o' clock?

__

Hagrid

Hermione turned to Harry. "Hagrid's for tea?" Harry nodded in reply, mouth full of cinnamon porridge. She scribbled a note back.

__

Great! See you at four!

__

Hermione

Griselda took the note with an affectionate hoot, soaring up to the ceiling and out the window once more. Hermione was quiet.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked, finishing his porridge. "You look sort of flushed."

"No," Hermione answered a bit too quickly. "Nothing."

"Did you get your book back?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, colouring. Harry watched her thoughtfully but asked no questions. The pair of them finished their breakfasts and departed the Great Hall.

"Anything you want to do before lessons?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Hermione said. "I could write in the notebook some more, make a few more guesses."

"Are you planning to shock him with anything today?" Harry asked hopefully. "I like it when you make him angry." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't do it just to make him angry," Hermione replied. "But yes, I had something in mind."

"Excellent," Harry responded. "You know what?" he asked, out of nowhere. "I need to run." He began to jog along the corridor in front of Hermione. He got faster and faster, turning corners and leaping up staircases two steps at a time until he was out of sight.

"Whoa!" Hermione rounded a corner in time to see Harry do a sort of forward-flip-roll of Mrs. Norris in the hallway ahead. It seemed she had once again appeared out of nowhere. She stared at him, looking offended. "Bugger off," Harry growled, but his heart wasn't in it, Hermione knew. She came up beside him.

"What was that, Harry? Been taking gymnastics in your spare time?"

"No," Harry answered, sounding a bit shocked. "I didn't know I could do that. Come on, let's leg it before Filch gets here."

"Actually, Harry," Hermione said as they reached the next staircase. "I want to go to the library."

"Again?" Harry asked incredulously. "I don't believe it. You were there twice yesterday."

"I know, but that was before we'd been to Hogsmeade. I want to find something to try my unicorn's hair in. Something I haven't done before."

"I'll see you at lessons, then," Harry said. "I'm going to go practise the Wronski Feint." They parted ways.

............

In the library, Hermione poked through the shelves, looking for something just right. She pulled book after book from the shelves, trying in vain to find one she wanted. Rounding a corner to try another shelf, Hermione nearly ran over Professor Snape, who stood, leafing through a leather-bound volume.

"Excuse me," she said softly. Professor Snape acknowledged her with a nod, not looking up. Something occurred to Hermione.

"Professor," she said timidly, "I'd like to ask you something." Snape shut the book and looked at her.

"Well, what is it?" he demanded.

"I wanted to know if I could get permission from you to look in the Restricted Section."

"For what?" Snape asked suspiciously, looking at her.

"I don't know, exactly," Hermione admitted. "I want to find a potion that uses Unicorn hair...One I've never made before."

"Why?" Snape persisted.

"Just for fun," Hermione answered, although to her it sounded lame. Snape seemed to accept this thought.

"Come with me," he said, and led he into the Restricted Section. She looked around hungrily at the books, not knowing where exactly to begin. "Be careful," Snape warned. Hermione looked up at him, surprised to see him watching her. "Don't touch anything without asking me first." Hermione nodded and began to make her way carefully down an aisle. "Potions books are this way." Snape gestured vaguely to the back left corner.

Once there, Hermione recognised the shelves. This was where she'd found that book in second year. But where was it? The place where it should have been was empty. She sighed, disappointed.

"What?" Snape asked curtly.

"The book I'd hoped to find isn't here," Hermione answered vaguely.

"Which book?" Snape asked becoming slightly exasperated.

Hermione sighed again. "_Moste Potente Potions_," she answered.

"How did you know it was here?" Snape inquired curiously.

"I looked something up in it once," Hermione answered, even more vaguely. She didn't want to tell him about the Polyjuice Potion.

"I have the library's copy in my classroom," Snape informed her. "Come with me. I'll get it for you." Hermione stared at Snape as he turned on his heel and strode away down the aisle. He stopped when he didn't hear her following him. "Well?" Hermione hastened after Professor Snape. This was very strange.

............

Professor Snape retrieved _Moste Potente Potions_ from his desk and handed it to Hermione. She thanked him and opened it, flipping through the pages. She found the Polyjuice Potion and stared at the diagrams for a moment.

"It is incredibly painful to take," Snape informed her.

"Oh, I know," Hermione said without thinking. "I made it once-" she stopped and clapped a hand to her mouth. Why had she said that? Snape stared dumbfounded.

"You _made_ that? When?" he demanded. Hermione said nothing. "When?" Snape asked again, leaning over his desk.

"Second year," Hermione mumbled.

"Surely you jest." Snape lifted a brow. Hermione looked up at him, eyes wide. This was very unexpected. He seemed to understand this, too.

"You realise that you broke several school rules by doing so," he said severely. "If I'd known about it then..." he trailed off. "If you find a potion you want to make, inform me," he said and left the room without another word.

............................................................................................................

Why had he said that? Snape was furious with himself. How had that situation got so out of control? First letting Hermione into the Restricted Section without a definite purpose. Then giving her that book of potions... How had a twelve-year-old girl made the Polyjuice Potion? It was one of the most dangerous potions to take, and she said she _knew_ it was painful to take? That suggested that she'd taken it...

But hadn't he seen a very odd thing in Harry's mind one day? A girl covered short dark hair lying in the Hospital Wing. Hermione was missing from his class for a week or two in her second year just after the New Year, and there had been supplies missing from his personal cupboard around the same time... That all fit. But her potion had obviously gone wrong if she'd ended up in the Hospital Wing covered in what appeared to be cat hair. The potion wasn't supposed to be used for animals, but that image was congruent with recorded incidents of animal hair added to the potion... Snape sat, pondering for a moment, then shoved those thoughts away.

What had driven him to act in such an odd manner? The night before he _smiled_, something he hadn't done for years. His lips still stung from it. Something had to be done.

..........

****

A/N: I'm home!!! I'm also a completely new colour, because sunshine has that effect on me. But it's brown, not pink, so no pain. :-) Ho-hum....have you missed me? The reason nothing updated was because Tamsin didn't know how to open the attatchments I sent her on my grandmother's computer so she could save them as .txt files. She tried it on the first of August before .rtf files were allowed and never tried again, but that's okay. Besides, patience is a virtue. Reviewer **Sav** might take that to heart. I told you, hon, I work more on development of characters than what you might term 'action'. You want quick fluff, read something else! :-) But no hard feelings, I can certainly understand the frustration. New chapters will be uploaded ASAP....I wrote everythng through Chapter 15 before my departure. Thanks again to my spiffing betas, **Aindel S. Druida** and **Kerichi**.

Thanks for all of the support you guys! Have an uber-fab day!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

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Changes Made

Chapter Fourteen

Snape tried to keep his head clear of thought. He'd just finished with Harry's lesson, and the moment had come that he'd been dreading and hoping for by turns. Hermione was standing up, walking towards him, drawing her wand... No! Too fast! But he didn't have his wand up in time to stop her as the spell came at him.

"_Legilimens!_" something feather-light and gentle prodded at his mind, looking for something.

__

Not again, he had time to think before he realised what she wanted.

__

Hogwarts this time...School at Hogwarts. This was going to be uncomfortable. Memories began to flash past Snape's eyes. If memories were what she wanted, she was going to get them. He shunted experience after experience towards the front of his mind from whence that gentle prodding sensation came. Hermione's eyes widened as the flood hit her. She hadn't expected this.

............................................................................................................

Hermione was astonished. Snape was co-operating with her? No, that couldn't be it. Either way, she was getting what she asked for. Memories of Snape as a teenager streaked past barely slow enough for her to catch them. The first glimpse of the castle as a first year gliding across the lake...the sorting hat...Mrs. Norris, appearing from nowhere...the Bloody Baron, gliding ominously around...the Hospital Wing...Dumbledore as a younger man...Snape meeting the Marauders for the first time...Snape's first glimpse of Lily Evans...Christmas at Hogwarts, snow falling outside...the Slytherin common room, crowded with sneering people...a view of the Hogwarts Quidditch stands from a broomstick...the Marauders again, swaggering past, shoving Snape into the wall...

Snape's voice sounded in her mind. _Satisfied?_

Hermione met his eyes, still firm. _Almost_. Snape stared at her. He hadn't been expecting that impertinent answer, Hermione was sure. She took her seat, smiling smugly at Harry, who made a face. The match between Snape and Harry was over in a second. Hermione felt she hadn't even had time to breathe, but she took her place again, facing her teacher stolidly.

Hermione offered no resistance this time, allowing Snape access to her mind. She knew she was taking a risk this time...he'd hardly ask for something easy.

__

Potions... came the whisper in her mind. Hermione froze, eyes wide. Of course.

.........................................................................................................

Snape was more than pleased. At first, the memories he got from Hermione were innocent enough, those of his classroom and practice potions she'd made in her spare time, but then he'd found a very interesting memory, from a girl's lavatory, it appeared. In one of the stalls, Hermione had built a small fire. Over this fire, a sludgy, muddy-looking mess bubbled unpleasantly. A Polyjuice Potion, most definitely. Snape singled this memory out as Hermione began trying to fight him away, but Snape had more practise. He ignored her, focusing only on that memory and those tied to it, fleshing them out. A ghost caused a flood that nearly took the cauldron out, making Hermione furious...She checked on the potion twice a day, it seemed. Snape watched, amused as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley entered the bathroom looking apprehensive and full of distaste...Hermione dipped the potion into three glasses...The inside of a bathroom stall, drinking the potion...Hermione looking down at herself in abject horror, making the discovery that she'd become half-feline...

That was enough. Snape pulled away, watching Hermione carefully. Suddenly he felt concerned... were those tears in here eyes...? Without a word, Hermione turned and fled, leaving both Snape and Harry staring after her.

"What did you do?" Harry demanded angrily, recovering from his surprise.

"Watch your tone, Potter," Snape shot back. "Nothing she didn't deserve." He felt terrible even as the words left his lips. He'd pushed her too hard, and wound up hurting her, which in turn, hurt _him_. This was not good. Harry met his eyes, fury rising in his eyes.

"And what did she deserve? Sir," he spat.

"Keep your nose out, Potter," Snape returned. "Now leave." A moment later Snape was alone in his rooms.

............................................................................................................

Hermione sat on the floor in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, tears trickling down her face. She was sure she'd just got Harry in horrible trouble. Not only that, but Professor Snape had just witnessed her biggest magical failure as a witch! She cried harder, although she still made little noise. Moaning Myrtle's ghost came suddenly out of one of the stalls.

"Somebody die?" she inquired, almost hopefully. "I haven't seen you in a while. Where's Harry?"

"Not here," Hermione answered, trying to wipe away some of the tears. She sniffed.

"Well, fine then," Myrtle said, diving back into the toilet. Water sloshed onto the floor. Hermione rose, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. Reaching into her pocket, she found a tissue and blew her nose. She looked at herself in one of the cracked mirrors on the wall. Her eyes were red, her face pale, and her nose was still running. Frankly, she looked a mess.

"_Reparo!_" she tapped the mirror with her wand. It glowed blue for a moment, then every crack disappeared. It was too bad she'd never learned many cosmetic spells, Hermione thought, because she could have used one right then. She made it her next mission to learn a few in case this ever happened again. Brushing herself off, Hermione went to the door and opened it, listening. No footsteps. She left the bathroom and made her way to her bedroom as quickly as possible, meeting no one.

In her room, Hermione found her notebook and entered her newfound information in it. She was still slightly bewildered by Snape's co-operation...but then, perhaps he'd just been trying to keep her off guard for his attack... Hermione put down her pen. Crookshanks walked across the bed to her, licking her face gently with his rough tongue. Hermione smiled shakily at her cat.

"What do you make of it, Crookshanks?" she asked. Crookshanks sat and rolled over onto her notebook. "Time to stop?" She lay on the bed beside Crookshanks, stroking his fur until she fell asleep.

............

Loud knocking at her bedroom door wakened Hermione.

"Hermione!" It was Harry.

"I'm coming!" she called, rolling off the bed and onto her feet. She unlocked the door and let Harry in. "What is it?"

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, worriedly. "I looked for hours, but couldn't find you. Moaning Myrtle said you'd been in there but that you left. She wouldn't let _me_ leave then. Wanted a bit of a chat. Look, is there anything I can do? What did Snape do to you? He wouldn't tell me."

"No, I'm all right. I'm worried though, Harry. He caught the Polyjuice Potion...he didn't see what you and Ron turned into, but he knows I turned into a cat. He's bound to put two and two together...You're sure to get into trouble. Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry... I tried to stop him but..." she tailed off, biting her lip.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. Really, don't. There's not a lot he can do about it now, except maybe be astounded that you did that you made one of the most difficult potions known to wizardkind by yourself and only twelve years old."

"But I did it _wrong_," Hermione wailed. "I turned into a _cat_!"

"Which could happen to anyone, assuming they could make the potion in the first place," Harry assured her. "It isn't unusual, is it? Remember those diagrams in the book? At least you recovered, which is better than being furry forever, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed, unconvinced. Feeling rather dejected, she checked her watch. "It's almost tea time. We better get down to Hagrid's."

"He'll be worried when he sees you," Harry said.

"Do I look all right?" Hermione asked, reaching a hand to her hair.

"Yeah, it's just that you look sort of sad, and he can spot that a mile away," Harry said. "Oh well. At any rate, he'll make you feel better. Come on." He led her down the entrance hall and out of the castle, and then across the sweeping grounds to Hagrid's hut.

"Hello," Hagrid said. "I've been expectin' yeh. Why don' yeh come inside and tell me what's wrong, 'Ermione. You too, 'Arry." Hagrid held the door open, beckoning them in. "Have some tea." He poured them steaming mugs full. "Come on, start talkin'."

Hermione sighed. "We've been having Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape."

"What'd he do?" Hagrid growled, leaning forward in his chair, which creaked ominously.

"It wasn't him so much as me," Hermione tried to explain. "See, I've been trying to find out some things about him-"

"What'd you wan' to do that for?" Hagrid interrupted again.

"Because I'm curious," Hermione explained patiently. "Call it experimental research. Anyway, with Occlumency you use a combination of magic and mental strength to find memories and things from another person's mind. Usually, one uses it to tell whether or not someone is lying. I decided to sort of ask for certain memories about Professor Snape. He co-operated, and to keep him from getting all strange and defensive about it, I offered him memories of my own. That sounds sort of weird, doesn't it?" Hagrid nodded.

"Sounds mad," he answered. "Absolutely mad."

"Well today," Hermione continued, "I did it again, except this time, he took more than I wanted him to. I couldn't make him leave and he found out more about he Polyjuice Potion..." she stopped.

"More?" Harry asked.

"I was looking for a book in the library yesterday, Harry, and Snape was in there. Since I couldn't find anything interesting in the normal books, I asked him if I could go in the Restricted Section and he went with me. I was disappointed that _Most Potente Potions_ wasn't there, and Snape said he had it. I went with him to his classroom and he gave it to me and I opened it and then when he told me something about Polyjuice Potion I told him I already knew..." her lip began to tremble.

"None o' that," Hagrid said, patting her hand. "Drink yer tea. You too, Harry. Now don' yeh be worryin' 'bout that, Hermione, yeh hear? All that with the potion happened a long time ago, so yeh don' need to worry 'bout punishments or anythin'. But if yeh wanted to know Snape, why didn' yeh come to me?"

"Oh Hagrid," Hermione gasped. "I didn't even think of that! I feel like such an idiot."

"Snap out of it," Hagrid ordered. "The pity party's over, an' you know it. Everythin's goin' to be all right. Now drink yer tea an' have a cake."

"Is it a rock cake?" Harry asked warily.

"Nah, I got these from the kitchens," Hagrid answered, smiling at them through his beard. "After that stew, I didn' feel like cookin' much."

............

****

A/N: Hurray! Here comes even more character development. Not much of a note this time because I updated very recently. Thanks reviewers! I appreciate the support. Thanks ot my betas **Aindel S. Druida** and **Kerichi**.

Any guesses as to why Ginny Weasley's first name is Ginevra? My theory (copyright July 7th) is that she is named after Leonardo Da Vinci's first portrait painting of a girl named Ginevra. THe picture si supposed to be all sad and mysterious and stuff. Go read a book if you want to know more....I'm no art history teacher.

Also, I think that Cornelius Fudge is too simple to be believed. In addition to this, I wouldn't be surprised if the only thing he's good at is politics, and he is working under the influence of a very good Imperious Curse. I think the only way we'll find out is by his reaction to the Ministry break-in in book five. Hurry up, Ms. Rowling!!

Does anyone else find Ralph Fines very atractive? Charaismatic evil and whatnot. I'm looking forwad to this.

Oh, and what can possibly be the reason for the broken mirror in Harry's trunk? It's important, we know that because it isn't broken in a rubbish bin or the middle of the street...so what will it do? And why did Sirius die going "through the veil" instead of by the AK curse? Methinks it's time for pondering.

Have a triple fab day, everyone!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Changes Made

Chapter Fifteen

Snape couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd made Hermione Granger cry, _again_. And after he'd made her cry, he'd shown no outward remorse. What was this? A masquerade? The time to wear a mask was not now! Not when it meant hurting someone who shouldn't be hurt. But somehow he couldn't keep himself from hiding. Why was that, he wondered. In the meantime, he tidied his rooms for the thousandth time, pretending to find dust along the edge of his bookshelf.

Imaginary dust couldn't keep him occupied for long, however. Soon there was nothing left to distract him once more from his pressing thoughts of Hermione. What would he say when he saw her again? Could he apologise?

She started it, pointed out part of his mind.

I finished it, the other half argued.

She shouldn't have demanded memories from me without asking first, replied the first part.

Would you have given them to her if she had? asked the second half nastily. _Besides_, it continued, _You shouldn't have pressed her for more than she wanted to give you. She was powerless to stop you, but you could have stopped her any time you liked_.

Now that was something to consider. Why hadn't he stopped her from taking his memories if he didn't want her to see them? Try as he might, Snape couldn't produce a single reason.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Are you going to be all right now?" Harry asked, as he and Hermione walked back up to the castle from Hagrid's hut.

"Yes," Hermione assured. "And thanks, Harry."

"Anytime," Harry replied.

"What are you going to do before dinner?" Hermione asked.

"I was going to practise on my broomstick some more, and…er…polish my wand."

"Would you mind if I watched you?"

"While I polish my wand?" Harry asked jokingly. "No, of course not."

They spent the rest of the evening outside on the Quidditch pitch, Hermione watching from the stands, notebook in hand, as Harry circled, swooped, and dived in mid-air. Hermione made a very appreciative audience. She gasped when Harry streaked towards the ground, applauded when he levelled out just centimetres from the ground, and laughed when he twirled comically in the air.

"Laugh now," he called, grinning, "Because it's not as funny when a Bludger has just flown past your head. Would you mind throwing this for me to catch? It's too easy if I do it myself." Harry held up a golf ball.

"Bring it here," Hermione ordered. Harry lowered himself into the stands.

"I wonder how many fits Madam Hooch would throw if I decided to just rest the entire game, sitting in the stands," Harry pondered. "Not that I would, but it would be funny."

"As long as you weren't resting with the Slytherins," Hermione supplied, taking the ball from Harry. "Ready? Go!" She hurled the ball across the pitch. Harry shot after it and returned it to her in no time. Hermione threw it in a completely different direction. After this pattern repeated several more times, Hermione simply dropped it over the edge of the stands. Harry caught it easily.

"Is there anything you can't catch?" Hermione asked, and moved her arm to throw the ball again. Harry shot off into the middle of the pitch and stopped, looking around in bewilderment.

"Where'd it go?" he called.

Hermione shrugged, but couldn't keep her face straight. Harry threatened to tickle her, and she relinquished the ball.

"It's getting dark," Harry noted. Stars winked on the horizon. "We'd better get back in. Here climb on."

"Harry, you know I don't like flying," Hermione protested.

"Get on!" Harry insisted.

"Do you promise to refrain from loop-de-loops?"

Harry nodded.

"Fine." She clambered up behind him.

"Hold tight!" Harry shot into the air.

"My notebook!" Hermione cried. It tumbled through the air beneath them. Harry pointed the nose of his broom downwards and they shot beneath the book. Harry caught it neatly, still headed for the ground, then turned the broom back up and flew a safe distance up away from the grass. Hermione squinched her eyes shut, holding Harry tightly around the middle.

"You're going to kill me," Harry complained.

"I told you I hate flying," Hermione reminded him, eyes still shut.

"Then you'll _love_ this," Harry shouted, and headed for the ground. Hermione shrieked. The next thing she knew, the toes of her shoes were skimming the already dew-soaked grass.

"When we're on the ground again, I'm going to kill you," Hermione informed harry through gritted teeth.

"All the more reason for me to stay in the air!" Harry quipped, and shot back towards the sky. Wind whipped through Hermione's hair, sending it out like streamers behind her. With one more swoop through the air, Harry landed lightly on the ground. Hermione slid off the end of the broom, glaring at Harry.

"Never again," she said seriously. "Ever." Harry smirked and followed her inside the castle.

…………

Snape was not evident at the dinner table. Hermione relaxed upon realising this, and carried on amiable conversation with Harry, who was now quite forgiven. Harry related amusing stories of Dudley's aversion to magic and told of how none of his relatives would venture within four feet of Hedwig's cage. When the meal was finished, Harry and Hermione left the Great Hall and had just reached the Marble Staircase when Hermione paused.

"Actually, Harry, I think I'd like to take a walk."

"Do you want company?" he offered.

"Not really, thanks," Hermione answered. "I'll see you later." she waited until Harry had disappeared up the stairs before she turned and walked out of the great front doors and onto the shadowed lawn. Pools of golden light from castle windows fell onto the damp grass. Hermione stepped beyond their arm glow and stared up at the velvety dark sky. She had never seen so many stars, uninhibited by city lights or smog.

A breeze rustled through the trees and grass, bringing the scent of rain and pine to Hermione's senses. The lake rippled, distorting the reflection of the thousands and thousands of tiny stars far above it. The slenderest crescent of a moon hung high in the sky, shining pearly white. Hermione sighed in rapture. To be surrounded by such beauty was a blessing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape ate alone, not wanting to face Hermione among so many other people. He left his dishes by the fireplace and sat, staring at the fire for long minutes. He was overcome by a sudden wave of wanderlust, and rising gracefully, strode from his quarters. It didn't take him long at all to enter the Great Hall and then leave again through the heavy oaken doors that led outside. He moved silently down the few front steps and onto the dew-laden grass. Just before he advanced beyond the light of the castle, he saw a shadow move ahead of him.

Hermione.

She stood alone, gazing up at the moon. Snape stepped forward, moving to her side.

"God's thumbnail," he said softly.

"I always thought of it as the Cheshire Cat's Grin," Hermione told him, still staring into the sky. "It's lovely, isn't it?"

And Snape knew he'd been forgiven.

…………

A/N: Here is is, y'all! That's all I have for now…. Coming: Snape and Hermione hanging out and chatting, and soon a bit of the long-awaited personal interaction between our hero and heroine. :0) How patient you all are! Thanks for the reviews, everyone, and thanks to my betas, **Kerichi** and **Aindel S. Druida**.

To **cajunspeed14**: Just for your info, Harry can only get "messages" from Voldemort through his scar. Hermione and Voldemort have no such connection. The reason she is taking lessons is just as I have written it. Thanks for the suggestion anyway. :0)

And to **faerluthio**, I know that the mirror is there because Harry shattered it in anger. But why did he shatter it in his trunk instead of somewhere else? It's still there getting glass shards all over Uncle Vernon's socks, but _why_? :-)

Just wondering…. Is anyone in the mood for a DMHG? I have a plot with an end, this time. I already wrote it. :0)

Have a triple fab day! With knobs.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione was flipping through _Moste Potente Potions_, trying to find an appropriate potion to try. She was having little luck. Several of the potions were quite complicated, but all required ingredients were very hard to come by, and none of them seemed interested in unicorn's hair. With a sigh, Hermione set the book down. She probably ought to return it to Snape, she thought, and decided to do so.

When Snape answered her knock, he seemed quite surprised to see her.

"I hope I didn't interrupt you," Hermione said breathlessly. "I came to return this." She held out the book.

"Did you find one to try?" Snape inquired, taking it from her and running his fingers over the cover.

"No," Hermione sighed, sounding disappointed. Snape looked at her for a moment.

"Come in," he ordered, opening the door wider. Hermione hesitated, and then did as he asked. Snape moved across the room to his bookshelf. He ran his fingers over the relief on the side of the case and pressed a particular spot. To Hermione's amazement, a compartment opened, revealing an ancient-looking book preserved inside. Snape removed it gently from the bookcase and carried it to his table.

"This," he told her, laying it down, "Is my most prized possession." Hermione stared in awe as he opened the cover.

"It has no title," Hermione observed. Then she noticed the signature on the front page and gasped. "There are only four copies of this in the world!" she exclaimed, eyes as large as galleons.

"Five," Snape corrected her. "This is copy number five. I found it in a crumbling library outside of Kent. They let me have it in return for a few pest-deterring potions. I was unbelievably fortunate."

Hermione continued to stare. "Turn the page," she begged. Snape hesitated, and then stepped away from the book.

"You may," he offered. Hermione gaped at him, and hurried to take Snape's place before he could change his mind. Reverently, she turned the pages, eyes growing even wider with delight. She scanned the table of contents.

"I don't believe it," she murmured. "Veritaserum…" she turned several more pages, opening the book to the truth-saying potion. "I don't suppose I could make this one," she sighed, looking wistfully down at the page. Snape's face was momentarily softened by a sort of smile, but was schooled quickly back to blankness.

"Indeed you may," Snape told her. "I will oversee it, if you like."

Hermione stared at him. "The Ministry of Magic strictly controls the brewing of Veritaserum. One of their Acts actually prohibits common knowledge of the recipe…"

"And they don't know I have this one," Snape informed her. He smiled coldly. "And what they don't know…" he trailed away. Hermione's mouth opened in bewilderment.

"The Ministry-" she began.

"Can't do anything about it," Snape cut her off, sliding the book across the table towards himself. "Let me see," he murmured, reading the page before him. "It takes forty-two days to complete, and one must begin on a full moon."

"Last night was four days past new," Hermione supplied. "The full moon isn't for another ten days."

"Which gives us plenty of time to gather ingredients. Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you do on your afternoons?"

"Nothing sir," Hermione answered, "Unless Harry and Ron and I go to Hagrid's for tea. After that I do homework."

"Excellent," Snape said thoughtfully. Hermione was astonished she hadn't ever seen him this excited, excepting the time he thought he'd caught Sirius Black. She nearly smiled at the memory but bit back the reaction. "Beginning Monday, Granger, I want you in my classroom after your lessons are over."

"Yes, sir," Hermione agreed.

"This is in addition to time spent with me for Occlumency," he reminded her severely.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said again.

"And inform Potter that we will not be using wands after this weekend."

"Yes, Sir."

"You may go," Snape said finally, looking back down at his book.

…………

"It was supposedly written by Merlin," Hermione was explaining to Harry excitedly. "Or at least a wizard who called himself that. Snape has the fifth copy known to the wizarding world! Except," she paused, "Apparently the Ministry doesn't know he's got it. He's agreed to help me make Veritaserum!" Hermione rushed on, flapping her hands about in elation.

"What's in it for him?" Harry wondered aloud, watching Hermione dancing in place.

"Don't be such a spoilsport," Hermione moaned, cocking her head to the side. "Just because _you_ don't like him…"

"I'm just saying," Harry told her seriously, "It's a bit odd, Snape just sort of deciding out of nowhere to show you this book _and_ helping you with this potion."

"I think he just likes making potions," Hermione insisted. "It's silly, arguing over this anyway. Have you practiced your Occlumency yet?"

"No," Harry said dully. "I'm sick of practice."

"Harry," groaned Hermione, "Snape says we aren't using wands after this weekend. You _have_ to practice or he'll maul you."

"They need to come up with more interesting yoga positions," Harry remarked. "I mean, who really wants to pretend to be a bow? Why not the bouncing ferret pose?"

Hermione giggled. "You can invent it, if you like."

"How's this?" Harry made a horrible fake sneer at her and then began to hop up and down. "Any good?"

"Highly amusing, but not very relaxing," Hermione mused. "Maybe if you lay on your stomach."

"Then I'd just look like I drank too much firewhisky," Harry laughed.

"I'm serious, Harry," Hermione persisted. "Come on, just half an hour. I'll toss golf balls for you to catch later, if you like." Harry reluctantly agreed, and they settled down to practice.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Why had he done that? Snape fought the urge to pound his head against the wall. Why? All he had to do was look at her and he was falling all over himself to help her out, and now, he'd promised to help Hermione make illegal Veritaserum. Maybe it was just the look of excitement and disbelief on her face as she studied his aged copy of Merlin's legendary book. He'd have to find a new hiding place for it after this was over, he decided. It needed to be safer. Perhaps he ought even to place it in Gringotts for a while.

It could be he'd decided to help her because she'd looked so forlorn standing before his door, book in hand. Maybe it was because she reminded him of himself, always looking for something new and exciting to brew, testing her limits bit by bit. That had to be it. There weren't many explanations he could fathom for his extremely uncharacteristic behaviour. It simply wasn't like him to open himself this much to anyone, especially not a Gryffindor sixth year girl whom he'd made miserable for the past five years. Was he trying subconsciously to apologise? And why would he do that anyway?

Snape was exasperated. The genuine anger he'd felt with himself after making Hermione cry just a day ago had frightened him. What scared him even more was his desire to be forgiven and his relief at her soft voice, unmarred by anger or hurt the night before. He wasn't supposed to feel that way about anyone. For one thing, it opened _him_ to hurt. It offered a soft spot to his enemies and even, he admitted, to himself. Dumbledore would never allow him to maintain a relationship with a student anyway, Snape was sure. Why had that even crossed his mind? Snape shook himself hard. He needed to get away.

…………

Hermione stayed in high spirits all weekend. She cheerfully threw golf balls for Harry to catch three hours straight on Saturday afternoon without once sighing or rolling her eyes. Even Crookshanks had noticed her good mood and took advantage of the opportunity by clawing the furniture. She hadn't seen Snape since Friday, but Hermione was sure that when she did, she'd smile at him. Maybe he'd stop scowling all the time if someone just tried to be nice for once. On the other hand, it was possible that he'd just push that person away. He had never seemed very open to niceness.

On Sunday afternoon, Hermione and Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, facing each other. They had agreed to try wandless Occlumency as described to them by Hermione's book.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Hermione asked, opening her eyes. Harry nodded and opened his own eyes, meeting hers straight on. "All right, here I go…" Hermione concentrated on Harry's eyes, trying to focus on whatever was behind them. She felt a strong sense of amusement, radiating from Harry's direction, but that was all. "Nothing, really," Hermione told him after a moment, sounding disappointed. "All I got was that you think this is funny."

"Not _this_," Harry told her with a grin. "_You_! You've got your face all screwed up in concentration and your tongue pressed between your lips…" he mimicked her.

Hermione sighed. "You try then."

Harry straightened and looked into Hermione's eyes. Hermione tried to clear her mind, staring back at Harry.

"All you're thinking about is that damned potion," Harry told her, leaning backwards. "Give it a rest!" Hermione flushed. She _had_ been thinking about it.

"You're doing well, Harry," she said encouragingly. "Snape is going to be surprised." Harry looked smug.

"I didn't really pick up on much from you," Harry told her, eyes dancing. "I just guessed." Hermione swatted him.

"Not fair! What did you_ really_ get?"

"Self-satisfaction," Harry told her. "That's all, I swear. How long does it take before I can tell if you're lying or not?"

"Ages," Hermione answered dully. She brightened. "But at this rate, we'll be finished pretty quickly. You'll be able to hold your own against Voldemort, and I can go back to studying."

"Oh goody!" Harry mocked her, clasping his hands together. Hermione giggled.

"I _like_ studying, Harry. It's important to me. Like Quidditch is for you. You can't live without your broomstick, and I can't live without my books. Fair?"  
"I understand," Harry said, smiling. "But it's still fun to make fun of you for it. I could never find studying as much fun as a Wronksi Feint."

"Of course not," Hermione said snippily, "Which is what makes the difference between a bookworm and a dumb jock!"

............

**A/N:** Here you go... some nice hero/heroine interaction. Odd though their relationship is, you will shortly see them opening up to each other and having a couple of less explainable moments. :-) I like those rather a lot. As Harry catches on, we get to see _his_ relationship with Snape change, too, ironing out a kink that I have never liked about HP. If you find typos, please make a note of them in your review. Thanks to my ultra-fab betas **Aindel S. Druida** and **Kerichi** as usual!

Have an abfab day!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Changes Made

Chapter Seventeen

Harry and Hermione moved back into Gryffindor Tower on Sunday afternoon. They spent the morning practising wandless Occlumency, and the afternoon they spent in Hogsmeade, wandering the streets and taking it in.

"I've never had this much freedom," Harry told Hermione thoughtfully as they passed a group of wizard children, trailing wide-eyed after a harried looking witch in fuschia robes. "At the Dursley's, I can't go anywhere. During the regular school year, no one can just walk into Hogsmeade whenever, and you know, this is a nice feeling." He looked up at the sky, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I didn't _use_ my freedom until just this past summer," Hermione said after a moment. "I suppose I always had the option to go wherever I liked, whenever I liked because my parents are never home and have never told me directly _not_ to. I used to go for groceries and things like that if we needed them right away, but it was always very explainable safe things, you know, 'go and come right back, no stopping' things. When I decided to paint my room, I just…went. No note, no particular destination, I just went. It _was_ a nice feeling."

"I read a book once," Harry mused.

"Did you?" Hermione gasped in mock amazement. "A book besides _Quidditch Through the Ages_?"

"Shut up," Harry laughed. "I mean it. The guy who wrote it fought for the Yanks in World War II. He said something about how freedom was won so that it could be abused. That really made me think."

"And how do you think freedom is abused?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, for one thing, people don't use it! They have all this power to do and say what they like, and they don't use it."

"There are consequences for some actions," Hermione pointed out.

"But for things as simple as 'I want to go shopping today'," Harry explained. "Or, 'I don't like it when you do that, don't bother me'," people don't say those things when they should."

"Like you never said to Dudley," Hermione said flatly.

"Well…yeah, I guess you're right. I fought back in other ways, but I never straight-out told him to leave me alone. I don't think it would have done anything worthwhile, though."

"But you never found out whether it would or not," Hermione observed.

"Nope." He was silent for a moment. Then, " Hey, I'm thirsty. The Three Broomsticks?"

"Why not the Hog's Head?" Hermione suggested seriously. Harry stared at her. She smiled. "What? Like I'd willingly go back there?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on." They took seats at the pub and ordered drinks.

"A Butterbeer and a Tangerine Fizz," said Madame Rosmerta, bringing them over. "Good to see you two." Harry and Hermione thanked her and the barmaid left.

"A Tangerine Fizz?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.

"I'm using my freedom," she said, "And deviating from the norm. It's very empowering. You ought to try it."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape sat in a corner of the Three Broomsticks, wrapped in his largest cloak. He observed the room surreptitiously from beneath his hood until Potter and Hermione walked in. _Miss Granger_, he corrected himself. Damn. He couldn't go anywhere without being reminded of her. Snape shrank even farther back into the corner. He hoped fervently they wouldn't notice him, and fortunately, they seemed entangled in conversation over their drinks.

Snape watched them talking and, in a way, he felt almost envious of Potter. He wondered what _Miss Granger_ would be like unencumbered by politeness. She was currently slapping Harry lightly on the shoulder while he laughed at her impertinently. It wasn't the cruel laugh he remembered from that face, however. This was a much more pleasant version, although issued in the same voice as James's. Snape reflected for a moment. He had never known Harry Potter to be outright cruel to anyone. Even Draco Malfoy was treated with compassion. It had to be Lily's blood in him, Snape was sure.

Soon Harry and Hermione stood and left the pub. Snape watched them go, relaxing back into the corner as the door swung shut behind them. He stayed in the Three Broomsticks for several hours afterwards, thinking and soaking up the atmosphere of the cozy establishment. As the pub began slowly to empty, he returned to the castle. It was well past dinnertime, but Snape found no appetite. He went instead to his rooms and took out Merlin's book once more, studying closely the page with instructions for Veritaserum. _I can't back out now_, he though glumly, staring at the ancient vellum. There was no avoiding it. As of tomorrow afternoon, he'd be spending forty-two days in close proximity to Hermione Granger as she brewed an illegal potion. And it wasn't the illegal potion bit that bothered him.

What was it about Granger that caused him to act so irresponsibly? He had never been attracted in any way towards any of his students, so why this one? Why the one he could under no circumstances have, even if Dumbledore gave the go-ahead for a Professor/Student relationship? At least it would never come to that, Snape thought, thumbing absently through his book. Hermione viewed him merely as her Professor of Potions. Not even as a particularly close Professor, as she did Minerva, and certainly not as a friend. There was his safe spot. As long as Hermione had no attraction to him, he could keep his feelings in check. That would have to do.

…………

On Monday afternoon, Hermione and Harry went as usual to Snape's quarters for Occlumency lessons. Harry looked extremely nervous.

"Relax, Harry. Remember, it's wandless," Hermione said soothingly as they walked.

"That's what makes me uncomfortable," Harry told her. "He's got loads more practice than I have."

"So? There are people with more experience flying and you're better than they are," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm _good_ at flying," Harry told her. "Occlumency? Not so much."

Snape's door stood open. Harry took a deep breath and entered the room, followed by Hermione. Snape stood waiting for them.

"Sit however you are most comfortable." Snape ordered. "We will begin with a simple enough exercise. I expect you shall find it easy." Harry and Hermione sat down on the floor, Harry sprawled in a haphazard sort of fashion, Hermione with her legs crossed and back straight. "I want you to clear your minds and think about what you did on your weekend. Mr. Potter, think about Saturday. Miss Granger, Sunday. I want you to tell me about what happened on those days, but not _all_ of what happened. You will alter small details of your stories, and attempt to prevent me from discovering your lies. The most efficient way to do this is to suppress the memories that betray you. Mr. Potter, whenever you are ready."

Harry took a deep breath and began speaking. "On Saturday I woke up around nine and got dressed in jeans and a jumper with a griffin on it. I was reaching for my broomstick to do some practice when Hermione burst in jabbering about how you were going to help her make Veritaserum. Then she told me we ought to practice and I said that yoga ought to be jazzed up a bit. I suggested the 'boy on a broomstick' pose and then Hermione and I did some actual practice without wands. Hermione helped me practice Quidditch after that she threw apples for me to catch, and we played Gobstones for a while…"

"You may stop," Snape said coolly. "You did surprisingly well, Mr. Potter. However, your sweater on Saturday had a dragon on it, you suggested that someone try the 'bouncing ferret pose', and Miss Granger threw golf balls for you to catch."

Harry sighed. Then he brightened. "You missed one, Professor."

"And what was that?" Snape inquired calmly.

"Hermione and I played Scrabble, not Gobstones."

"Ah. You did much better than I expected. Miss Granger's persistence in encouraging you to practice has been worthwhile, Potter. Miss Granger, your turn."

Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated. She shut her eyes. "On Sunday I woke up just after sunrise and got dressed. After breakfast, Dobby the house elf helped Harry and I move back into Gryffindor Tower. We practised Occlumency and then had a bit of lunch. Then we told Professor McGonagall that we were going to Hogsmeade and headed off for the afternoon. We went into the stationer's and Harry bought a quill and then we just walked around talking for a while. We passed this family of six kids all lined up after a witch in blue and then Harry and I started discussing freedom. We went into the Three Broomsticks for a drink. Harry ordered Butterbeer and I ordered a Lemon Fizz, and we left. When Harry and I got back to the castle, we went up to Gryffindor Tower and played some Scrabble, and then we went down for dinner. You weren't there, though, so Hagrid sat next to me."

"Very good, Miss Granger. You omitted one of the house elves however. Winky, as I believe she is called, was helping as well. And while it is true that you informed a teacher that you were leaving the castle, it was Professor Dumbledore, whom you encountered on the fourth floor. Harry didn't buy his quill at the stationer's. It was at Zonko's. I better not see you sucking on it in my class, Potter. And the witch you passed had seven children. In the Three Broomsticks, you ordered a Tangerine Fizz, and in Gryffindor Tower, you played chess, not Scrabble. Did I miss anything?"

"Just the witch's robes," Hermione sighed. "They were fuchsia, not blue."

"You may be under the impression that you did badly," Snape told Harry and Hermione, "But you both did remarkably well. It is not often that beginning Occlumency students are able to get even one detail past me. I am impressed. Now, Potter, you may go. Miss Granger and I have an appointment."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione as he left. "You're mad," he mouthed as he passed. Hermione smiled impishly at him. Snape waited until Harry had left the room to speak.

"We will be working in my classroom," he told her, walking over to his table and gently picking up Merlin's book. Hermione rose and followed him down the dungeon corridors, fairly dancing with excitement.

............

**A/N:** Not much action I know, but the themes are important later. Next chapter, sparks fly! I swear. I've already written most of it. :-) Thanks for all of the support, you guys! I'm really flattered. As always, thanks to my fabulous betas, **Aindel S. Druida** and** Kerichi**.

Have a triple-fab day!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Changes Made

Chapter Eighteen

Hermione sat with Professor Snape at his desk. They were bent over Merlin's book, reading and making up a schedule for when each step of the potion needed to be executed. It wasn't going very quickly. Hermione couldn't keep her mind on anything but the delicious scent of rosemary emanating from Snape's hair, and Snape couldn't concentrate on anything but how close he was to Hermione. The silence grew uncomfortable.

"Um," Hermione said. "What do we need to start it?"

"The…" Snape began, still staring at the book. "The silver…silver cauldron, and one litre of moon water…then we add seven drops of essence of eyebright… Perhaps we ought to assemble all ingredients before beginning."

"Excellent suggestion, sir," Hermione said quickly.

"If you will read out the ingredients," Snape offered, "I will retrieve them from the supply cupboards."

"Yes, professor," Hermione agreed and began to read aloud. "Essence of eyebright, fourteen bluebell blossoms, acacia root, ash root, clove oil, jasmine oil, a sprig of rosemary, powdered… this word is smudged Professor, can you read it?"

Snape set down the bottle he was removing from the cupboard and moved to read over her shoulder. Hermione was highly aware of his skin near hers, radiating warmth. Her scalp prickled and a chill ran down her spine. She could hear him breathing. Hermione turned her head slightly. She could see his face, inches from hers. A lock of hair slipped from the tail held by a leather thong at the nape of his neck, brushing her face. Hermione could smell the rosemary and something else as well, something different and distinctly attractive. She held her breath, not sure whether she ought to be enjoying this closeness to Snape, or cringing away.

"It says 'euphrosyne', Snape told her. It's an… an herb." He'd moved his head to look at her, and now met her eyes. Hermione held his gaze until Snape seemed to realise how strange this all was. He straightened suddenly and stepped away from the desk. "What else do we need?" Hermione finished reading the recipe, pausing every now and then so Snape could collect everything properly.

"Should we prepare it all beforehand?" Hermione inquired. "Before we begin again, I mean."

"Probably so," Snape said. "Let me see the book again, please." Hermione slid it across the desk to him. She watched at him as he read, head bowed. When he looked up again, he met her eyes for the second time. Each of them froze in place. Hermione was thankful when a cutting board fell from the cabinet, shattering the reverie. She was very unsure of her feelings.

"What should we do first?" Hermione asked, standing to pick up the cutting board.

"We need the eyebright first, but the drops go directly into the water before it's boiled. After it boils, we add the bluebell blossoms whole, so the next thing is acacia root, which needs to be sliced into equal pieces."

"I can do that," Hermione offered. "May I have a knife, please?" Snape handed her one from the store closet, his fingertips brushing her in the process. Hermione shivered. How strange! She sliced the root with a practised hand as Snape chopped ash root into tiny pieces on another cutting board. The other oils were arranged in order of need. Hermione eyed the euphrosyne with a raised brow.

"It takes a great deal of effort to powder," Snape told her. "I can do that later. If you'd like to leave now, I can take care of storing these things," he gestured to the roots. Hermione agreed, looking (and feeling) rather overwhelmed. She departed quickly, thanking Snape several times as she did so. In the corridor outside Professor Snape's classroom, Hermione leaned against the wall, cool stone to flushed skin, breathing heavily. The effect the Potions Master had on her had never before been quite so pronounced. The worst part was, Hermione wasn't sure whether she truly disliked it…

………..

Snape's hands shook as he held the mortar and pestle, ready to powder the euphrosyne needed for Veritaserum. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing felt laboured and short. A bit of hair had escaped from its tie. Snape set the mortar down, pestle clanking inside it. He sank into the chair behind his desk and rested his head in his hands. Once more the question rose in his mind: Why did Hermione Granger affect him so? It was strange for him, being out of control like this. Was he wrong in thinking that perhaps, she was affected, too?

The expression in her eyes when he looked at her was unfathomable. He remembered the feel of her so close to him, her breath tickling the sensitive skin at his cheek, her watching him from beneath her long, curling lashes. Snape felt lost without an answer. If he wasn't wrong, where could he go? If he was, what would he do to keep his self-control? Snape had promised her more than a month of assistance with a difficult potion. He cursed himself again for his abandon.

Snape directed his attention firmly back where it belonged. He picked up the mortar and pestle again. Taking a deep breath, the Potions Master steadfastly began to pound the euphrosyne, as if each purposeful meeting of porcelain and herb would bring him closer to the answers he sought.

…………

That evening, per Dumbledore's instructions, Harry and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall as the rest of the school began pouring in from the Entrance Hall doors. They waited anxiously at Gryffindor table for Ron and the rest of their friends. Ron seemed just as excited to see them, clapping Harry and Hermione on the back

"Harry, mate! How've you been? Hello, Hermione!"

"Are we glad to see you," Hermione said fervently.

"Has Snape been hard on you?" Ron asked with a grin. "I don't envy you at all for that." He grinned at Harry and sat down. "Tell me about it!" Hermione was quite content to let Harry relate his tale of events. Her head still spun from her afternoon in Snape's classroom. Ginny looked at her curiously when she sat down next to Ron at the table, but any questions were quickly lost in the flurry of greetings and story-swapping.

"Anything happen on the train?" Hermione asked Ginny, speaking loudly over the roar of students chatter in the Hall.

"Malfoy came in once with Crabbe and Goyle, but he just said some rot about how things were going to be 'different' this year. I can imagine he's right; the students are certainly more willing to believe that You-Know-Who is back." Ginny looked worried for a moment. "The inter-house relationships will probably be a lot closer now."

"Was Luna with you this time?"

"Yeah," giggled Ginny, "And as strange as usual. She was reading _The Quibbler_ again. Says it's been really successful since that interview with Harry last year. Do you know who our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is this year?" Ginny asked with interest.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I hadn't even thought about it until now!" Both girls looked towards the high table. Dumbledore was there, watching the proceedings with something akin to delight, and Hagrid of course. Professors Trelawney, Sprout, Flitwick, Vector, and Sinistra were seated, as well as the Ancient Runes Professor and the Professor of Muggle Studies. Hermione watched as Professor Snape entered the room from a back door, catching her eye by accident as he slipped into a seat. They froze once, more, Hermione's face flushing. Ginny looked at her curiously, but by the time she looked to see where Hermione was gazing, Snape had turned away.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"N-no," Hermione stammered, looking away. "Nothing. Look! Here come the first years!" Led by Professor McGonagall, an open-mouthed group of First Year students were filing into the Great Hall, gaping up at the enchanted ceiling and the hundreds of older students around them. When they reached the front of the room, the Sorting Hat opened its mouth and began to sing from its traditional stool.

Welcome once again to Hogwarts

We're mighty glad you're here,

To sing and learn and laugh with us

Through another splendid year.

There is no need to be afraid,

Be glad of me, instead.

Step up when your name is called

And place me on your head

I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

I can see what's on your mind

I look inside your head and place you

Based on what I find.

I might put you in Gryffindor

Where the bravest folk belong

You will find that Gryffindors

Are honest, bold and strong.

The Hufflepuffs, they stand alone

They are just and kind and true,

They are patient and they're loyal,

Does this sound at all like you?

I might place you in Ravenclaw

Where the scholars have their say,

If you've a knack for wit and learning,

In the eagle-house you'll stay.

Or slither in to Slytherin

Where dwell the sly and keen

The cunning, smooth, and skilful

Will often there be seen.

But please make friends in every house

Don't take house bonds too strong

To pride yourself on the house you're in

Is a great and dreadful wrong

Now step right up and have a go,

Don't back away in fear

Welcome in to Hogwarts

And have a brilliant year!

The room burst into applause as the Sorting Hat finished its song. Professor McGonagall stepped up beside the stool and pulled out a scroll. Each new student stumbled up the platform in turn, looking fearful and nervous. Then the hat would shout a house and the student would doff the cap to thunderous applause, looking relieved. Finally, after "Zidzik, Jacqueline" was sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore rose and made his customary first night speech.

"Good evening. I know you are all anxious to get on to our fabulous food and drink, so I will keep this short. First of all, I would like to welcome every one of you to another year here at Hogwarts. Second of all, I am sure many of you have noticed the empty seat here at the Professor's table. Our new Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts will be arriving after the meal. With that said," he paused and smiled, looking around the room, "Let the feast begin!" Professor Dumbledore waved his hands, and food appeared from nowhere in the waiting dishes on every table. Noise filled the Hall once more as every student began to eat, laughing and talking the entire time.

............

**A/N:** What did you think of the poetry? Took me ten minutes. :0) Next chapter, the revealing of our new DADA teacher. Any guesses?

Oh, and did anyone else get a weird review from _wehatepiggiears20_? What was that about?

And to report plagiarism, of which one case (or does it count as two) has recently come to my attention, look at the dark blue task bar at the top of every page and click on the drop-down menu labeled "Menu". Select "Help" and you get a page with all of the addresses and stuff.

To **parody-of-an-angel**, of course it can be misinterpeted! :D

To **charmed piper**, mention teh errors to me and I'll see what I can do. Thanks!

To **Wiily**, you're the only person who picked up on that. He tells her about it later. Good detective work, mate. :-)

To **Artemis MoonClaw**, Happy birthday.

To **wackoramaco87**, yes, this takes place sixth year. I might skip ahead to seventh year graduation, though. We'll see.

To **quartz**, I try. :0)

Okay, that ought to do it! Thanks so much for your support! As always, thanks to my fabulous betas, **Aindel S. Druida** and **Kerichi**.

Have a fabulous day!


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Changes Made**

**Chapter Nineteen**

As the last remnants of dessert faded from everyone's plates, Professor Dumbledore rose from his golden chair at the centre of the teacher's table. The students all fell silent as Dumbledore raised a hand and smiled.

"I hope you have all been fed and watered to your satisfaction. I would like to remind all students now that the Dark Forest is still completely off-limits. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that magic is not permitted in the halls. For a full catalogue of items and behaviours not permitted in the school corridors, please see the list provided on his office door." Dumbledore paused and looked around the room. "Now, it is my great pleasure to introduce to you our new Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts." He clapped his hands once and the doors at the rear of the Great Hall swung slowly open.

The person that began walking slowly up the aisle appeared stranger than even Mad-Eye moody, or rather, Barty Crouch Jr., had been. He? She? Whoever it was had the oddest face any of them had ever seen.

"I can't help feeling I've seen this person before," Hermione muttered to Ginny. When the figure reached the front of the room, it spun around and faced them, throwing back the hood of its cloak. The students took a collective breath and waited apprehensively. Then there was a sort of gasp as the figure began to change. The huge twisted nose melted away and the hump in the new professor's back disappeared. The students could tell it was a 'her' now. Her eyes changed colour, as the people nearest her could tell, and last of all, her hair began to grow shorter and shorter, changing colour from muddy grey to bright pink.

"I _knew_ I'd seen her before!" Hermione crowed triumphantly under her breath.

"This," said Professor Dumbledore, "Is Professor Nymphadora Tonks."

The Great Hall burst into applause, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny cheering loudest. Professor Tonks smiled and took a bow. At the teacher's table, Snape's scowl was deeper than ever.

In the morning Hermione met Harry and Ron for breakfast outside the Great Hall. The huge room smelled wonderfully of sausages and hot rolls, and Ron's stomach growled audibly, making him blush. Professor McGonagall handed out schedules as they ate, and Hermione received hers with interest.

"We've got Defence Against the Dark Arts first!" she cheered. Harry and Ron quickly opened their schedules to look, too.

"We've got Potions second," Ron said, sounding disappointed.

"Nah, mate," Harry said, with a wink at Hermione. "We've got some stuff to tell you about that. He might not be as bad this year, what with giving Hermione private lessons and all..."

Ron looked as though someone had just force-fed him one of Hagrid's rock cakes.

"He's _what_?"

"We're just working together in the afternoons to make up some Veritaserum. Nothing major," Hermione answered blithely, sipping her juice. "Honestly, Ron. You get so worked up."

Harry grinned.

"That and we've been reading his thoughts several times a day."

By now Ron looked as though the Hogwarts Express had just run him over. "You're joking."

"No. We're pretty good at Occlumency by now, and Snape was ever so co-operative when we wanted to know about his childhood."

"He had a childhood?" Ron looked rather incredulous. "I never imagined him as a boy before. Tell me, did he pick that overlarge nose of his?"

"Ron!" Hermione looked rather angry. "That's enough. You can't talk about him like that anymore. I won't hear of it."

Ron backed down, looking at her strangely. "All right, all right, calm down." He looked at Harry questioningly. Harry grinned.

"Don't worry about it," he told his friend. "I think she fancies him a bit." Ron looked disgusted. Hermione scowled.

"I don't," she told them firmly. "I'm just trying to be nicer to him. I think we all should. Especially since he's helping me make an _illegal_ potion." She looked pointedly at Ron.

"Oh yeah," said the redhead thoughtfully. "It _is_ illegal, isn't it? Why is he helping you make something illegal? Shouldn't he be docking Gryffindor points for you even thinking about breaking the law?"

"He really doesn't seem to care," Hermione said going back to her roll. "I think you should forget about it and eat your breakfast. May I read your paper? I haven't renewed my subscription yet. Thanks." She unfolded Ron's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and began to read, ignoring Ron and Harry who began to discuss what had happened in the past week.

"Has she been acting this weird all the time?" Ron wanted to know.

"Yeah," Harry answered under his breath. "Still bugged me about my homework, though, so it can't be too serious."

The Gryffindor sixth years sat excitedly in their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year, buzzing with excitement. They didn't have long to wait. Seconds after the bell rang Professor Tonks entered the room, smiling cheerfully at them all.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm Tonks. Don't bother with the 'Professor' stuff... it makes me feel old." In front of Hermione, Seamus Finnegan raised his hand.

"Yes..."

"Finnegan, ma'am. Seamus Finnegan"

"Seamus, then," she waited expectantly.

"How did you that stuff last night? Do we get to learn that this year?" He looked very disappointed when she answered in the negative.

"No, that's something I was born with. But I will be teaching you the most effective means of camouflage and things like that, though. You've heard of glamours, I expect?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Oh, good. Ever used them?" Most of the students turned to look at Hermione, who went pink and nodded.

"Excellent. We'll be practising with those, and with some of the more complicated spells, but I want you to learn the simpler ones, too. Sometimes the best answers are the simple ones." From beneath her desk, Tonks pulled a stack of paper, alternating black and white. She passed it up and down the rows. To each student with black paper Tonks handed a stick of artist's charcoal, and to each student with white paper, she offered a white crayon. "Now," she said with another cheery smile. "Draw a picture. No magic! And you will receive a grade for participation." The class looked round at one another as their pink-haired professor went back to her desk and sat down, pulling out a book. Several of them pressed their charcoal and crayons tentatively to the paper, but each had no effect.

"What do we do now?" Ron whispered to Harry in an undertone. Harry shrugged and tried his charcoal again. Hermione looked down at her crayon, then up at Tonks, who continued to read. A sudden idea caught her and she turned to Neville Longbottom on her left. The same thought seemed to have stricken him, because he was already holding out his charcoal to her. She offered him her crayon in return, and each began to draw. The rest of the class quickly followed suit, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of satisfied students scribbling busily away at their papers. Tonks stood up fifteen minutes before the end of class, just as everyone was putting the finishing touches on their pictures.

"I wondered how long it would take you all," she said, smiling around at them. "There are two things I want you to gain from this activity." Her expression became more sombre. "Where defence against the dark arts is concerned, teamwork is essential. There are many things one cannot do alone that one may accomplish with the aid and support of others. Also, you must realise that unless you break free of the boxes you have been entrapped in since childhood, you will be at a severe disadvantage all your life. Don't ever take only what is handed to you... look around and utilise all of your resources, even if you think it means breaking rules. Who here was the first to realise the solution and act upon it?"

Hermione shot her hand into the air. "Neville was," she said with a grin. Neville turned pink. Tonks walked over to Neville's desk and looked him straight in the eye.

"Well done, Neville. Well done, indeed."

Neville looked as though he'd burst with pleasure.

Snape sat at his desk, waiting patiently for the bell to ring. He drummed his fingers absently on the dark wood, thinking about nothing in particular. He'd be teaching double potions next, Gryffindors and Slytherins. The Potions Master wasn't looking forward to it. The only person worth watching during his classes was Hermione Granger. A butterfly spread its wings in the pit of his stomach, flapping about unnecessarily, Snape thought. He rose from his seat as the bell rang and flicked his wand at the classroom blackboard. Precise instructions in brewing an Elixir of Shadows appeared on the dark surface. Students began trickling in one or two at a time, taking their seats noisily.

When the bell rang again, Professor Snape turned around sharply to face the expectant students. The hook-nosed man was not surprised to see that Draco Malfoy was up to his usual antics, sneering nastily in Miss Granger's direction. Snape cleared his throat sharply, startling the blonde boy in his seat. Snape began the lesson.

"The Elixir of Shadows is one of the more complex potions you will make this year. Can you, Mr. Malfoy, tell me what it is used for?"

"The Elixir of Shadows," began Malfoy smarmily, "Is used to produce invisibility in humans."

"Miss Granger," said Snape sharply, noticing her stiffen slightly at Malfoy's answer. "Can you correct Mr. Malfoy's answer?"

"The Elixir of Shadows is used to produce only a _half_-invisibility. One who has taken the Elixir of Shadows appears wraith-like, thus the potion's name. In addition to this, the Elixir is highly dangerous, as unmeasured amounts can produce nearly irreversible effects."

Professor Snape nodded in her direction. Hermione looked taken aback for a moment, then rather pleased. Malfoy looked murderous. Snape continued with his lesson.

"Miss Granger is entirely correct. Any mistake made whilst brewing this potion renders it one-hundred-percent useless. None of you will ingest any of this potion unless you wish to be in the Hospital Wing for several months in a state of agony. The instructions are on the board. Read them carefully and follow them exactly. Anyone found not doing so will immediately have ten points deducted from their house. You have been warned. Now, partners for this activity are..."

Snape read off a long list of names and watched as the students separated into their assigned partnerships. He strode up and down the rows, peering at his students' work surfaces and growling instructions at them every now and then. Neville Longbottom shrank a little as the black-clad professor paused to examine his work, but for once, Snape could find nothing wrong with the clumsy boy's procedure. He said nothing and continued on his 'rounds'. He watched Malfoy flicking beetles eyes at Hermione for a moment, but she seemed to be ignoring the Slytherin git entirely. The only move she made was when one of the eyes fell in amongst her other potion ingredients. She carefully removed it and set it aside. Snape decided to intervene when Malfoy began flicking Demiguise dung pellets at her.

"Mr. Malfoy!" snapped Snape. With his most imperious look, Snape commanded that the blonde boy sweep up the pellets he'd been tossing so casually about the classroom. He also delivered a detention for wanton squandering of expensive and rare potion ingredients. Malfoy looked rather shocked, his cheeks tinted pink in anger and embarrassment, but he said nothing and did as he was told. Snape noticed that while Hermione continued to work as if nothing had happened, Potter and Weasley were looking at each other with something akin to amazement.

"Something bothering you, Potter? Weasley?" Snape asked coldly.

"No, sir," they stammered, and returned their work. Snape felt quite satisfied. He returned to his desk and sat again, watching Hermione from the corner of his eye.

**A/N:** Again, sorry it took so long! My computer decided that bits of my files must taste good and ate them as I wrote. Anyways, I hope you like this.... not much 'action', I know, but next chapter we visit our hero and heroine once more stuck together over a complicated potion, so more of that delicious tension we like so much. I'm beginning to relaise just how much I use the box metaphor.... muses Oh well.

IMPORTANT The line in the Sorting Hat's song (which _is_ in fact my own original work) that talks about pride in one's house.... I don't mean that one shouldn't be proud of the house that they're in, just that one shouldn't put too much importance on it and set themselves above others because of it. Remember in the first book when everyone is saying that they hope they aren't in Hufflepuff? Hermione says that "...Gryffindor sounds by far the best, but Ravenclaw doesn't sound too bad...." and of course there are the Slytherins who go around all pompous because they get to dress in green and silver. Each house has equal good strengths and equal weaknesses. Remeber also, that not every Slytherin goes bad, just most of them! Other Hogwarts students seem to forget that sometimes. :-(

I'm _so_ Hufflepuff. :0)

I just realised that I put that important note -- in the A/N of Hardest Thing. oops. Story confusion! Ack!

Thanks for all the reviews, guys! It really makes me feel good. (pfft, pfft head swelling.)

As always, thanks to my triple-fab betas, **Aindel S. Druida **and **Kerichi**!

Stay safe, everyone!


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Changes Made**

**Chapter Twenty**

Hermione finished brewing her Elixir of Shadows right on time. She turned off the heat and watched the dark liquid swirling gently in the cauldron for a moment before beginning her carefully executed clean up. She dipped and labeled a small flask of her Elixir and walked it to Professor Snape's desk ignoring Malfoy who leered unpleasantly. When Snape took the vial from her, their fingertips brushed ever so gently and their eyes locked. The spell was broken when Crabbe knocked his cutting board off of his desk, spilling beetles eyes and Runespoor egg shells across the floor.

Hermione stepped away from Snape's desk trying as hard as she could to look casual and uncaring. Snape rose from his desk and crossed the classroom to torment Crabbe, who was clumsily trying to clean up his mess. Malfoy slid a foot from under his desk as Hermione passed. Hermione, lost in contemplation of her momentary rapture, tripped. She fell forward and hit the cold stone floor hard, catching herself with her forearms.

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy," rang Snape's icy voice from just behind Hermione. Hermione pushed herself to her feet, smirking to herself at Malfoy's shocked expression. She hurried to her seat without looking back at Snape. She finished tidying her workspace and packed all of her belongings into her rucksack. She cheered silently for Neville as he shuffled to the front of the room, holding a flask of the Elixir of Shadows. Although it was slightly paler than most of the other student's, it was still completely identifiable and in all likeliness, functional. Hermione beamed at him as he shuffled back to his seat. Neville went pink and smiled bashfully.

When the bell rang, Hermione waited patiently for Harry and Ron. As they passed Snape's desk, the professor spoke without looking up.

"After classes, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I'll be expecting you."

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered promptly.

"Yes, sir," Harry said after a miserable glance at Ron.

The friends hurried from the dungeons, speaking quietly about Snape's odd behaviour during class.

"He gave Malfoy detention!" Ron was saying, looking rather bewildered. "I don't get it. And did you see his hair?"

"Only for the past week," Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. "We're used to it by now. Didn't Hermione write you about it?"

"Yeah. Just the shock of seeing it in person..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys."

"He's never been precisely kind to you, though, Hermione, and he's always taken the ferret's side."

"Maybe Malfoy did something to piss Snape off earlier," Hermione suggested. "Besides, people change."

Ron bent over and touched the floor. "Hmm... it's cold," he said grinning, "Maybe hell froze over..."

Hermione heaved a sigh. "Shut up."

After the sixth years left, a bawdy group of third years entered the dungeons looking rather apprehensive. They fell silent at the sight of Professor Snape, sitting straight at his desk. He watched from the corner of his eye as they one by one relaxed, relieved that eh had no harsh words on the first day of class. He noted, too, that several of them nudged each other and nodded surreptitiously in his direction, quizzical looks on their young faces. After a rather painful hour of potion-brewing, Snape was left alone in his cold classroom once more. He vanished a melted cauldron rather neatly, straightening chairs with a wave of his polished wand. He sank into the chair at his desk to hold his head in his hands and contemplate his lesson plan for Potter and Hermione that afternoon. And after that... he wasn't sure quite what would occur. Hermione sure put his composure to the test, a test that he'd nearly failed the Friday before!

When Potter and Hermione finally trickled in from the dungeon corridors, Snape was waiting for them in his rooms, pacing moodily back and forth before the fire place. He ordered the students to sit, conjuring flat cushions for them to sit on as an afterthought. Settling himself rigidly on the floor before them, he began the lesson.

"We begin today with wandless Occlumency," he said, looking the Potter boy straight in the eye unflinchingly. "I don't expect success this time, but you _will_ practise. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," mumbled Harry and Hermione together.

"Wands work with magic similarly to the way in which a magnifying lens focuses sunlight on a particular point. It will be difficult to use your body and mind the same way in which you use your wand, but there is no use in telling me that you are incapable of it. We will begin with a meditative exercise, much like the ones used in several forms of the martial arts, in yoga, and in Eastern religions. Sit cross-legged," Snape ordered, rising to his feet. "Back straight. You're too used to slouching." He corrected first Harry's posture and then Hermione's, feeling the warmth of her back through her robes.

Ignoring the sensation with years of practise, the Potions Master stepped away and settled himself before his students, facing them. "Now close your eyes and focus inward. Find the beating of your heart. Breathe deeply, in rhythm with your heartbeat. Feel it, concentrate on it, think of nothing else." He did the same, taking comfort in the simplicity of the exercise. "Relax, one section of your body at a time, beginning with your feet. Focus on it, and let it go." Moments later he continued, "Once you are completely relaxed, bring your concentration to your very centre and reach down inside yourself until you find your magic. You'll know when you've found it."

He opened his eyes to see Harry's face, stony in concentration, and then his attention turned to Hermione, and he nearly forgot to give the next instruction. Her face was soft and unguarded, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks gently in a smooth sweep of golden brown. The next moment, she'd found her well of magic, Snape knew. A palpable glow spread across her face, raising her cheekbones and parting her lips in a surprised smile. "When you've found your source," Snape said haltingly, "please state its colour."

"Gold," the Potter boy said in awe.

"Red," Hermione said wonderingly, "deep burgundy red."

"Follow your magic to the channel in your wand arm," Snape directed coolly. "Follow it all the way to your fingertips. Once you have familiarised yourself with its pathways, return to the well in your centre and focus once more on your heartbeat." His eyes were riveted on Hermione's glowing face. He took in every wave of her hair as it fell about her shoulders, every shift her robe made as she breathed deeply, every nuance of expression that crossed her face as she concentrated on her heart. Almost fearing what would happen, Snape gave the last command.

"Open you eyes." His breath caught unnaturally as Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she found his gaze with her own shining one, her lips still parted in a smile. they stared at each other, entranced, just watching the other's face. Harry broke the silence by coming out of his reverie.

"That was _brilliant_," he said warmly. "Why haven't we done it before?" Snape forced himself to look away from the girl before him.

"Because what comes after this is much less pleasant and much more difficult. You may not be able to do magic without your wand for a long time. In fact, I rather doubt you will," Snape said flatly. "Your homework tonight will be to practise this meditation at least twice. That is all. Mr. Potter, you may go. Ms. Granger?"

"Please, Professor, I'd need to get something from my room," Hermione said hesitantly with a glance at Harry.

"Don't dawdle," the Potions Master ordered. "Meet me in my classroom. We have work to do." Hermione followed Harry out of the room, glancing back when she thought he couldn't see. Secretly, Snape was relieved that she was going, at least momentarily; he needed a space or two to breathe. Running shaking hands through his hair, the Potions Master sighed. He needed to take control of this situation, and he needed to do it before things got out of hand.

Hermione practically threw herself onto her bed in the girl's dormitories, which were, thankfully, abandoned. Heart pounding furiously, she shut her eyes and forced herself to become calm. This was absurd! She could barely concentrate on her meditation while he spoke, couldn't even look him in the eye without breaking out in chills. Breathing deeply, Hermione sat up again and stared hard out the window at the far end of the room. She'd simply have to restrain herself, think of anything but him. She was his student, he her teacher. That was _all_, she told herself firmly. And that was how it was going to stay. Thus convicted, Hermione lifted herself from the bed and ambled calmly down the spiraled staircase, through the common room, and back down to the drafty dungeons. Professor Snape was already in the classroom when she arrived, but Hermione forced herself to look away, waiting for him to speak.

"I have prepared the ingredients," Snape said coldly from behind his desk where eh sat, gazing down at the book of potions. "Get the silver cauldron and light a fire here," he instructed shortly, indicating a burner to the left of his desk. Hermione hastened to do so. "Take the moon water and put it in the cauldron. Add the essence of eyebright." Hermione did this also, careful not to look directly at him. "Wait for it to boil," Snape directed at last, and Hermione stepped away from the cauldron. She stared into it for a moment, then remembering that a watched cauldron never boils, Hermione moved even farther away and settled into a chair in front of the Potion Master's desk. She studied the wood before her, and then the stone floor, and then the ceiling, where and odd sort of stain had appeared in a corner. Hermione pulled out her wand and aimed.

"_Scourgify!_" she said softly. In a flash of light, the stain vanished leaving only cold, grey stone behind. Feeling eyes upon her, Hermione glanced up at Snape to find him watching her intently. She looked hurriedly away, distracting herself by checking on the water which had begun to bubble promisingly.

"Add the bluebell," Snape ordered distantly. Hermione did, watching as the water hissed and turned a translucent lavender colour. Minutes later, Snape spoke again, directing Hermione to add the acacia root and then the ash root, stirring three times counterclockwise after each addition. "It must boil exactly twenty-four hours before the next addition," Snape informed her afterwards. "I have already set a timer. You will be here tomorrow afternoon. Do not be late."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir."

"You may go," the dark man said coolly. "Close the door on your way out." Once she'd gone, he set his head in his hands. She'd avoided him the entire time. Obviously, the attraction was entirely in his head, as he'd suspected all along. He really _was_ a dirty old man.

**A/N:** Hey! Sorry it took so long. Chapter Twenty-One will be along eventually. Thanks everyone who reviewed! You know who you are. **Aindel S. Druida** and **Kerichi**, you guys are triple-fab... thanks for being so talented.

Have a fabulous day!


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